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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 


J 


SHAKESPEAEE  AND  fitt^ 
CRITICS 


BY 


CHARLES  ¥.  JOHNSON,  Litt.  D. 

Professor  Emeritus  of  English  Literature 
at  Trinity  College^  Hartford 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 

HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 

i^ht  0iter^iDe  pce^jj  Cambrtbge 

1909 


COPYRIGHT,   1909,  BY  CHARLES  F.  JOHNSON 
ALL   RIGHTS   RESERVED 

Published  March  igog 

GIFT 


TO 

DR.  HORACE  HOWARD  FURNESS 
IN  RECOGNITION  OF  THE  DEBT 

DUE  HIM  FROM  ALL 
THE  FRIENDLY  ADMIRERS  OF 
SHAKESPEARE'S  ENDOWMENTS 


ivi772660 


PREFACE 

The  object  of  this  book  is  to  give  an  outline  of  the 
attitude  of  the  English  and  American  literary  world 
towards  the  plays  of  William  Shakespeare  from  the 
seventeenth  century  to  the  present  time.  The  verdict 
of  the  world  of  playgoers,  that  some  of  the  plays  when 
well  acted  were  far  better  worth  seeing  than  those  of 
any  other  dramatist,  has  been  the  same  for  all  genera- 
tions. But  the  estimate  of  the  plays  by  professional 
writers,  as  reflected  in  literary  criticism,  has  varied,  or 
rather  the  views  on  which  the  estimate  was  based  have 
varied,  greatly.  For  a  long  time  it  was  a  matter  of  faith 
with  most  of  them  that  Shakespeare  was  '  irregular,' 
because  his  construction  and  method  differed  widely 
from  that  of  the  dramatists  of  Greece.  Admitting  that 
he  was  a  unique  genius,  as  shown  in  many  passages  of 
force  and  beauty,  it  was  thought  that  the  plays  would 
be  much  better  if  they  were  less  original  and  more  imi- 
tative of  the  ancient  models,  and  the  poet  had  always 
kept  to  a  certain  dignity  of  diction  and  situation,  and 
in  particular  had  observed  the  formal  rules  which  were 
supposed  to  be  deduced  from  the  plays  of  the  ancient 
dramatists  and  were  known  as  the  three  unities.  Eng- 
lish common  sense  continually  rebelled  against  the  con- 
tention that  an  English  poet  lacked  taste  and  culture 
because  he  did  not  imitate  the  methods  or  style  of 
the  poets  of  another  race,  and  the  position  was  finally 
abandoned  in  the  latter  part  of  the  eighteenth  century. 
Coleridge  barely  alludes  to  it,  and  Lamb  and  Hazlitt  of 
the  early  nineteenth  century  ignore  it  completely. 


viii  PREFACE 

The  critics  of  the  eighteenth  century  were  largely- 
occupied  with  endeavors  to  establish  a  standard  text  by 
emendation  and  conjecture.  Quite  generally  they  looked 
at  the  plays  from  the  standpoint  of  the  theatre,  ignor- 
ing the  idea  that  the  tragedies  were  commentaries  on 
human  nature  and  possessed  an  absolute  quality  like 
truth  or  beauty.  Dr.  Johnson  is  typical  of  this  class, 
if  he  is  not  too  extreme  an  instance  of  common  sense 
to  be  typical  of  that  excellent  quality.  Though  these 
critics  rebelled  rather  timidly  against  slavish  obedience 
to  the  authority  of  '  the  ancients,'  the  idea  that  the 
author  was  an  untutored,  natural  genius,  who  would 
have  been  much  improved  by  a  university  training,  was 
not  fully  eradicated.  The  true  nature  of  art  was  not 
philosophically  grasped,  and  the  profound  relation  of 
the  plays  to  life  was  but  dimly  hinted  at.  The  idea  that 
the  characters  could  be  discussed  exactly  as  if  they  were 
real,  that  they  differed  from  historic  characters  in  pos- 
sessing more  interesting  personalities,  in  being  placed 
in  more  complicated  and  trying  situations,  and,  there- 
fore, exemplifying  more  fully  the  passions  of  men,  did 
not  occur  to  the  critics  till  very  late  in  the  eighteenth 
century.  Nor  was  it  discovered  till  towards  the  close 
of  the  eighteenth  century  that  Shakespeare's  female 
characters  bear  almost  as  close  a  relation  to  feminine 
nature  as  his  heroes  do  to  manly  nature.  In  fact,  both 
of  these  views  may  be  said  to  belong  to  the  romantic 
school  of  the  nineteenth  century. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth  century  the  critics 
of  the  so-called  romantic  school,  who  viewed  life  and 
literature  from  the  standpoint  of  the  emotions,  widened 
the  scope  of  criticism  and  justified  the  preeminence 
of  the  poet  by  more  refined  considerations.  Coleridge 
was  the  leading  figure  of  this  school,  in  which,  though 
enthusiasm  tended  to  rhapsodical  generalizations,  the 


PREFACE  ix 

conception  of  literature  and  art  became  more  spiritual. 
The  importation  of  notions  from  the  German  aesthetic 
school  gave  a  new  philosophic  basis  and  added  elements 
to  criticism,  which,  if  sometimes  tending  to  mystic  in- 
definiteness,  were  at  least  part  of  a  system  of  thought. 

In  the  latter  half  of  the  nineteenth  century  the  suc- 
cess of  the  scientific  method  applied  to  the  material  and 
animate  world  affected  the  tone  of  critical  thought,  and, 
indeed,  of  all  reasoning.  Great  attention  was  paid  to 
details  of  material  form,  and  some  remarkable  dis- 
coveries resulted  from  exact  analysis  of  the  verse  of 
different  plays.  At  the  same  time  there  was  a  dispo- 
sition to  minimize  the  elements  of  wonder  and  rever- 
ence, and  to  reduce  all  critical  considerations  to  rational 
grounds.  This  corrected  some  of  the  extravagancies  of 
the  romanticists,  but  in  some  instances  overdid  itself 
by  sinking  the  aesthetic  quality  of  the  play  and  concen- 
trating attention  on  matters  that  could  be  counted  and 
generalized  mathematically,  or  by  accumulating  a  mass 
of  historic  details  of  slight  significance  and  regarding 
the  accumulation  as  an  end.  This  is  quite  evident  in 
the  writings  of  Messrs.  Furnival,  Fleay,  and  Simpson. 
The  influence  of  the  scientific  method  is  also  apparent 
in  a  tendency  towards  minute  subdivisions  such  as  are 
properly  made  in  botany  and  geology,  and  further  in 
a  disposition  to  treat  the  poet  and  his  plays  as  ordinary 
phenomena,  natural  products  to  be  accounted  for  by 
favorable  circumstances,  a  view  which  leads  to  erro- 
neous conceptions  as  surely  as  does  the  other  extreme, 
that  poetry  is  the  result  of  a  direct  inspiration  from 
some  source  outside  the  inspired  individual.  Many 
critics  who  may  be  regarded  as  natural-born  roman- 
ticists, or  perhaps  influenced  by  the  later-day  aesthetes, 
combatted  the  scientific  critics  vigorously. 

In  the  end,  however,  the  scientific  method  was  lim- 


X  PREFACE 

ited  to  careful  scrutiny  of  facts  and  rational  deduction 
therefrom,  tempered  by  a  consciousness  that  the  ma- 
terial criticised  was  great  poetry,  a  product  of  the 
imagination  as  well  as  of  the  reason,  and  dependent 
on  a  faculty  which,  if  not  abnormal  in  its  nature,  is  so 
excessive  in  the  favored  individual  as  to  be  abnormal 
in  energy,  and,  therefore,  creative.  In  Professors  Brad- 
ley and  Lounsbury  we  have  critics  to  whom  poetry  is  a 
wonderful  and  beautiful  thing,  but  who  sift  evidence 
and  form  no  conclusions  not  legitimately  based  on 
evidence.  They  might  be  called  rational  romanticists, 
combining  learning  and  culture.  They  have  a  sub- 
limated common  sense  and  a  comprehension  of  the 
function  of  great  art  which  to  the  mathematicians  is 
foolishness. 

Of  course  men  of  any  type  may  exist  in  any  period. 
A  romantic  individualist  like  Mr.  Swinburne  may  be 
contemporary  with  the  most  rigorous  scientist  like 
Mr.  Fleay,  a  man  of  ponderous  common  sense  like 
Dr.  Gervinus  may  succeed  a  romanticist  like  Schlegel. 
Hallam  closely  follows  Coleridge,  instead  of  preceding 
him  by  a  generation.  Nevertheless,  there  is  a  develop- 
ment of  thought  in  Shakespearean  criticism.  Consider- 
ing the  effort  that  has  been  expended  on  it,  it  would 
be  discouraging  were  there  not  signs  of  more  catholic 
views  and  increasing  breadth  of  grasp. 

This  book  considers  only  the  principal  critics.  The 
first  volume  of  Knight's  Cabinet  Edition  contains  a 
brief  review  of  the  critical  writings  on  Shakespeare 
down  to  1850,  but  is  principally  taken  up  with  an 
account  of  various  editions.  It  is  out  of  print.  The 
copious  extracts  in  Dr.  Furness'^  Variorum  Edition 
apply  to  individual  plays.  Professor  Lounsbury's  vol- 
umes give  a  minute  history  of  Shakespearean  criticism 
for  the  seventeenth  and  early  eighteenth  centuries. 


PREFACE  xi 

None  but  professionals  can  read  all  the  originals.  This 
book,  growing-  out  of  college  lectures,  is  intended  for 
the  ordinary  reader. 

Acknowledgments  are  due  to  Messrs.  Macmillan  and 
Company  of  London  and  the  editor  of  the  A  tlantic  for 
permission  to  print  extracts  from  their  publications. 
I  wish,  too,  to  thank  the  librarians  of  Yale,  Harvard, 
and  the  Boston  Public  Library  for  lending  me  valuable 
books. 

C.  F.  Johnson. 

Hartford,  September,  1908. 


CONTENTS 

I.  The    Departments    of    Shakespearean    Criti- 
cism     1 

II.  Criticism    of  Shakespeare    by  his    Contempo- 
raries AND  UP  to  the  Restoration   ....    23 

III.  From  the  Restoration  to  1710 45 

IV.  The  Early  Eighteenth-Century  Editors  :  Rowe, 

Pope,  Theobald,  Hanmer,  Warburton    ...    78 

V.  The  Later  Eighteenth-Century  Editors  :  John- 
son, Capell,  Steevens,  Malone 113 

VI.  The  Late  Eighteenth-Century  Essayists  :  Mrs. 

Montagu,  Richardson,  Farmer,  Morgann  .    .  143 

VII.  The  Early  Nineteenth  Century  :   Coleridge, 

Lamb,  Hazlitt 164 

VIII.  Foreign  Criticism  of  Shakespeare  :  Schlegel, 
Ulrici,  Gervinus,  Freytag,  Voltaire,  Ana- 
tole  France,  Taine 209 

IX.  The  Middle  of  the  Nineteenth  Century  :  Mrs. 

Jameson,  Richard  Grant  White 242 

X.  The  Later  Nineteenth  Century  :  Swinburne, 

Dowden,  Tolstoy 262 

XI.  The  Close  of  the  Nineteenth  Century  :  Wen- 
dell, Fleay,  Lee,  Carlyle,  Emerson,  Lowell, 
Miles,  Corbin,  Stoll 289 

XII.  Criticism  of  the  Twentieth  Century  :  Bradley, 

Baker,  Lewis,  Raleigh 321 


SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

CHAPTER  I 

THE  DEPARTMENTS  OF  SHAKESPEAREAN  CRITICISM 

Literary  criticism  has  been  one  branch  of  the  writer's 
profession  since  the  days  of  Aristotle.  Shakespeare  is 
so  preeminently  an  important  and  interesting  figure  in 
our  literary  history  that  the  criticism  of  his  plays  forms 
a  large  library.  Some  of  it  is  unintelligent,  but  it  can- 
not be  said  that  any  part  of  it  is  unimportant,  because 
the  gradual  development  of  reasonable  views  on  the 
subject  is  parallel  to  the  gradual  growth  of  liberalism 
in  religion  and  politics.  The  history  of  Shakespearean 
criticism  is  an  epitome  of  the  history  of  the  general 
mind  of  Christendom  since  the  seventeenth  century. 
There  is  to  be  seen  in  both  the  same  progress  from 
conservatism  and  reverence  for  authority  to  reliance 
on  reasoned  principles  based  on  an  examination  of  the 
thing  itself  regardless  of  the  codified  law,  and  also  the 
same  perception  that  codified  law  is  not  necessarily 
erroneous  because  it  is  ancient,  but,  unless  misinter- 
preted, is  an  expression  of  truth,  with  the  reservation 
that  it  is  truth  as  it  appeared  to  the  general  mind  in  a 
certain  stage  of  its  development.  We  have  learned  to 
respect  both  Samuel  Johnson  and  Samuel  Coleridge. 
Shakespearean  criticism  has  its  historical  value  and 
slow  line  of  development  as  much  as  free  institutions. 
It  may  well  be,  too,  that  it  is  still  in  the  same  partially 
developed  condition. 


.2......  .SHAKES-PEARE  AND  HIS   CRITICS 

Shakespearean  literature  concerns  itself  with  several 
distinct  kinds  of  subject-matter. 

I.  TEXTUAL   CKITICISM 

As  the  plays  of  Shakespeare  were  printed  long  before 
large  publishing  establishments  had  brought  the  art  of 
proof-reading  to  its  present  state  of  exactness,  and  were 
particularly  unfortunate  in  not  coming  under  the  eye 
of  a  corrector  of  any  intelligence,  the  first  editions,  the 
large  folio  of  1623  and  the  earlier  quartos,  are  full 
of  errors.  Some  of  the  plays  in  the  folio  were  much 
better  printed  than  others,  perhaps  because  the  copy 
was  better;  but  in  all  the  proof  was  very  imperfectly 
corrected,  if  corrected  at  all.  It  seems  as  if  it  were  a 
matter  of  indifference  to  the  compositors  whether  the 
words  they  set  up  were  intelligible  or  not.  In  questions 
of  punctuation  their  rule  apparently  was:  when  in  doubt 
use  a  question  mark.  In  consequence,  the  first  thing  to 
do  when  Shakespeare's  works  were  edited  in  1709  was 
to  correct  the  most  obvious  mistakes,  many  of  which 
were  so  plainly  typographical  as  to  call  for  no  ingenu- 
ity.   But  others  present  all  degrees  of  difficulty. 

The  main  authority  for  the  text  is  the  large  folio 
volume  of  1623,  of  which  some  hundred  copies  are 
known  to  exist.  It  was  brought  out,  seven  years  after 
Shakespeare's  death,  by  two  of  his  partners,  who,  al- 
though they  did  not  understand  the  duties  of  publishers 
very  well,  may  be  supposed  to  have  desired  to  produce  as 
good  a  book  as  possible,  and  in  particular  to  have  in- 
cluded all  the  plays  of  their  late  associate  which  could 
1  justly  be  called  his  composition.  This  First  Folio,  then,  is 
the  basis  of  the  Shakespearean  text ;  for  the  Second  Folio, 
the  Third  Folio,  and  the  Fourth  Folio  are  merely  reprints 
issued  with  no  systematic  effort  at  improvement.  But 
before  the  printing  of  the  folio  many  of  the  plays  had 


DEPARTMENTS  OF  CRITICISM  3 

been  printed  soon  after  their  production  in  pamphlet 
form,  apparently  against  the  wishes  of  the  promoters 
of  the  theatre,*  for  the  editors  speak  of  them  as  'stolen 
and  surreptitious  copies.'  Many  of  these  have  survived, 
varying  greatly  in  quality,  and  these  very  editors  used 
seven  of  them  as  printer's  copy,  although  they  stigma- 
tized them  all  as  stolen.  In  some  cases  the  quarto  is 
fuller  than  the  same  play  in  the  folio.  In  others  the 
folio  is  the  better ;  and  for  eighteen  it  is  the  sole  au- 
thority, no  quarto  having  come  down  to  us  for  Macbeth^ 
The  Tempest^  Winter's  Tale^  As  You  Like  It,  Cym- 
heline,  Julius  Ccesar,  Timon  of  Athens,  and  several 
others.  Of  some  of  the  plays  several  quartos  were 
issued;  six  or  seven  of  Richard  III a,ud  four  of  Rich- 
ard II.  In  some  cases,  when  the  dates  are  far  apart, 
the  quartos  show  the  play  in  different  stages  of  devel- 
opment, and  are  then,  as  in  the  case  of  Hamlet,  of  great 
value  in  showing  how  the  author  amplified  his  work. 
In  some  instances  different  copies  of  the  same  edition 
of  a  quarto  differ,  as  if  the  presswork  had  been  stopped 
and  changes  made  in  the  form.    As  the  early  quartos, 

*  There  seems  to  have  been  a  brisk  demand  for  *  playbooks '  in 
the  seventeenth  century.  Prynne,  author  of  Histriomastix,  1633, 
says  that  forty  thousand  of  them  were  issued  in  the  two  years 
before  his  writing.  This  is  within  the  bounds  of  possibility.  They 
were  used  in  the  theatre  as  prompt-books,  as  is  evident  from  the 
fact  that  in  some  of  them  the  names  of  the  actors  are  written 
before  the  entrances  of  the  character.  In  the  folio  the  name  of 
Kemp,  the  famous  comedian  who  took  the  part,  appears  a  number 
of  times  in  the  place  of  Dogberry  in  the  margin,  showing  that 
Much  Ado  About  Nothing  was  set  up  from  the  very  copy  used  by 
the  prompter.  But  doubtless  the  greater  number  were  bought  for 
individual  reading.  After  the  printing  of  the  folio  many  Sliake- 
spearean  quartos  were  issued  down  to  the  eighteenth  century. 
These  are  known  as  '  players'  quartos,'  and  are  not  of  the  slightest 
value  in  settling  disputed  readings,  and  of  little  as  bibliographic 
cariosities. 


4  SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

even  if  surreptitious,  are  authentic,  it  is  evident  that 
they  are  valuable  in  settling  disputed  readings,  and 
that  the  labor  of  collating  or  comparing  them  line  by- 
line with  the  folio  was  a  task  requiring  infinite  pa- 
tience and  industry.  It  was  begun  in  the  eighteenth 
century,  and  carried  out  in  the  course  of  one  hundred 
and  fifty  years  by  English  and  German  scholars,  to 
whom  the  thanks  of  posterity  are  due. 

Dr.  Johnson  advised  the  student  to  read  the  plays 
through  before  consulting  any  notes.  It  is  true  that  all 
or  very  nearly  all  of  the  famous  passages  are  correctly 
printed  and  need  no  textual  commentary,  and  it  is  true 
also  that  we  gather  the  suggested  meaning  of  poetry 
without  a  logical  comprehension  of  the  words  and 
phrases.  But  the  young  student  who  reads  the  first 
three  acts  of  Winter  s  Tale,,  or  any  part  of  Cymhe- 
line^  or  many  passages  of  other  plays  where  the  style 
is  involved  and  condensed,  or  the  allusions  dark  to  him, 
certainly  needs  illustrative  notes  and  a  text  in  which 
the  principal  errors  are  corrected  and  the  punctuation 
modernisied.  Suppose  him  to  come  across^the  following 
speech  of  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  in  the  first  scene  of 
the  first  act  of  Henry  VIII: — 

Why  the  devilj 
Upon  this  French  going  out,  took  he  upon  him, 
Without  the  privity  of  the  King,  to  appoint 
Who  should  attend  him  ?  He  makes  up  the  file 
Of  all  the  gentry ;  for  the  most  part  such 
To  whom  as  great  a  charge  as  little  honour 
He  meant  to  lay  upon  :  and  his  own  letter, 
The  honourable  board  of  council  out. 
Must  fetch  him  in  he  papers . 

He  readily  understands  that  the  *  French  going  out ' 
is  the  embassy  to  France  when  Henry  met  Francis  on 
the  Field  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold;  possibly  he  may  see  that 


DEPARTMENTS  OF  CRITICISM  5 

the  next  to  the  last  line  is  parenthetical  and  means,  the 
council  not  being  in  session,  or  being  disregarded ;  but 
if  he  can  interpret  the  last  line  without  a  note  telling 
him  that  '  him '  is  equivalent  to  *  him  whom,'  also  that 
*  papers '  is  a  verb,  meaning  '  puts  on  the  list,'  he  is 
one  of  a  thousand. 

The  errors  which  have  been  corrected  come  under 
several  heads  :  — 

(a)  In  some  cases  speeches  are  plainly  attributed  to 
the  wrong  person,  in  the  folio  and  quartos  both,  as,  for 
example,  in  the  speech  of  the  ghost  in  Hamlet:  — 

Thus  was  I,  .  .  . 

Cut  off  even  in  the  blossoms  of  my  sin,  .  .  . 
No  reckoning  made,  but  sent  to  my  account 
With  all  my  imperfections  on  my  head ; 
0,  horrible  !  0,  horrible  !  most  horrible  ! 
If  thou  hast  nature  in  thee,  bear  it  not. 

It  seems  unlikely  that  the  ghost,  who  has  but  a  few  min- 
utes left,  should  interrupt  himself  to  comment  on  his 
murder,  and  natural  that  his  son  should  interject  the 
line  beginning,  '  O,  horrible ! '  and  not  confine  the  ex- 
pression of  his  feeling  to  dumb  show.  It  is  very  easy 
for  the  printer  to  omit  the  speaker 's  name.  The  speech 
is  usually  taken  by  the  actor  of  Hamlet,  and  it  would 
seem  rightly.  But  there  are  other  cases  where  the  trans- 
ference of  speeches  is  not  warranted,  though  the  se- 
quence of  ideas  would  be  more  manifest  if  it  were 
done. 

(6)  As  a  matter  of  course  many  words  and  phrases 
used  in  1600  have  since  become  obsolete.  Some  of  these 
are  explained  as  allusions  to  social  customs,  to  folklore 
of  the  day,  or  to  sports,  as  archery,  hawking,  or  bowls. 
The  vocabulary  of  slang  is  very  ephemeral.  No  one 
ever  uses  wrongly  a  slang  expression  of  his  time,  but  it 
is  sometimes  very  difficult  to  appreciate  the  force  of  ob- 


6  SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

solete  slang,  and  the  same  may  be  said  of  fashionable 
jargon  and  the  current  style  of  wit.  This  is  especially 
evident  in  Loves  Labour 's  Lost^  and  is  one  of  the  sub- 
jects that  need  illuminating  notes.  All  these  questions 
have  been  pretty  well  threshed  out,  and  this  book  will 
be  concerned  with  them  only  incidentally.  The  reader 
soon  learns  from  the  context  that,  with  Shakespeare, 
sad  means  serious,  but  not  melancholy ;  conceit,  mental 
conception,  not  egotistic  self-esteem ;  favor,  counte- 
nance, not  good-will ;  complexion,  natural  composition, 
not  hue  of  skin ;  owe,  own,  not  be  indebted ;  and  the 
significance  of  many  other  words  which  are  not  obsolete 
but  have  changed  their  shade  of  meaning.  But  he  learns 
it  more  readily  from  having  it  pointed  out  to  him. 

(c)  Closely  allied  to  the  above  is  the  question  of 
grammatical  construction.  Shakespeare  knew  nothing 
of  our  modern  rules,  and  would  have  disregarded  them 
cheerfully  in  favor  of  current  usage  had  they  been 
drilled  into  him.  His  usage  was  of  course  the  good 
usage  of  his  day,  for  he  was  very  sensitive  to  the  signi- 
fication of  words  as  well  as  to  English  syntax,  though  he 
wrenched  both  in  the  latter  part  of  his  life  when  vigor- 
ous expression  was  in  question.  That  he  uses  *  who ' 
when  we  should  say  '  whom,'  and  writes  '  none '  with 
the  plural  or  singular  verb  according  to  the  shade  of 
meaning,  is  not  a  matter  of  great  importance  either 
way.  As  a  rule  his  style  is  very  idiomatic,  and  there- 
fore offensive  to  purists. 

{d)  In  places  where  the  original  sources  fail  to  con- 
vey an  intelligible  meaning,  conjecture  has  been  re- 
sorted to,  sometimes  with  happy  effect  and  sometimes 
with  inconceivable  ineptitude.  For  example,  in  Twelfth 
Night  the  Duke  says  of  music :  — 

That  strain  again :  —  it  had  a  dying  fall : 
O,  it  came  o'er  my  ear  like  the  sweet  sound 


DEPARTMENTS  OF  CRITICISM  7 

That  breathes  upon  a  bank  of  violets 
Stealing  and  giving  odour. 

Though  music  is  a  '  sound,'  it  is  difficult  to  see  how  it 
could  confer  or  convey  smell.  Pope  changed  'sound'  to 
'  south,'  which  makes  the  passage  one  of  those  appro- 
priate images  disclosing  the  essence  of  the  thing  de- 
scribed, a  creation  of  a  poet.  The  damp  south  wind  in 
spring  passing  over  beds  of  flowers  does  steal  and  give 
odor.  Nevertheless,  the  emendation  is  not  universally 
or  even  generally  accepted. 

Another  famous  and  universally  accepted  change  is 
less  satisfactory.  In  Henry  V,  ii,  iii,  Dame  Quickly, 
describing  the  death  of  Sir  John  Falstaff,  says,  '  His 
nose  was  as  sharp  as  a  pen  and  a  table  of  green  fields.' 
Theobald,  an  excellent  critic  of  the  eighteenth  century, 
the  man  who  incurred  the  enmity  of  Pope,  who  called 
him  '  poor  piddling  Tibbalds '  in  the  Dunciad  because 
he  had  pointed  out  some  of  the  shortcomings  of  Pope's 
edition,  emended  this  passage  to  read :  '  For  his  nose 
was  as  sharp  as  a  pen  and  he  babbled  of  green  fields.' 
Whoever  has  witnessed  the  deathbed  of  an  old  man  of 
the  Falstaff  type  knows  that  the  delightful  old  repro- 
bate never  weakened  to  a  commonplace  pathos  in  the 
stupor  that  precedes  dissolution.  '  His  nose  was  as  sharp 
as  a  pen'  is  precisely  the  realism  of  a  woman  like 
Quickly,  to  whose  mind  details  like  the  '  dish  of  prawns' 
and  the  '  parcel-gilt  goblet '  are  always  present,  and 
Mr.  Collier's  suggestion  :  '  His  nose  was  as  sharp  as  a 
pen  on  a  table  of  green  frieze '  seems  nearer  the  true 
reading.  But  the  former  is  universally  accepted. 

In  some  cases,  like  '  that  runaway's  eyes  may  wink  * 
in  Romeo  and  Juliet^  it  is  impossible  to  hit  on  a  satis- 
factory reading,  though  we  should  like  exceedingly  to 
know  who  '  runaway '  was.   The  conjecture  *  rumour's 


8  SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

eyes '  is  not  altogether  satisfactory,  and  the  question  is 
insoluble.  In  other  cases  the  true  word  or  the  meaning 
of  the  word  is  of  little  consequence,  as  in  The  Tempest^ 
when  Caliban,  in  an  excess  of  loyalty  to  his  new  master, 
Stefan o,  says, '  I  '11  bring  thee  to  clustering  filberds,  and 
sometimes  I  '11  get  thee  young  scammels  from  the  rock.' 

What  are  scammels ?  Sea  birds  or  oysters?  It  is  of 
no  consequence  that  we  cannot  tell.  They  were  some- 
thing good  to  eat,  —  excellent  beyond  question,  —  and 
the  freckled  whelp  knew  where  they  most  did  congre- 
gate. 

There  are  some  hundred  and  eighty  cases  where  con- 
jecture is  at  a  loss.  These  are  known  as  *  cruxes.'  Many 
of  the  ingenious  minds  of  the  nineteenth  century  com- 
mented on  these  and  endeavored  to  suggest  a  mean- 
ing. When  a  line  has  apparently  dropped  out  in  the 
printing,  it  is  hopeless  to  attempt  to  replace  it,  so  much 
of  the  force  of  Shakespeare's  verse  depends  on  the  indi- 
vidual choice  and  collocation  of  the  words.  For  instance, 
in  the  first  act  and  first  scene  of  Hamlet,  Horatio  is 
describing  the  portents  that  appeared 

In  the  most  high  and  palmy  state  of  Rome, 
A  little  ere  the  mightiest  Julius  fell. 

He  says :  — 

The  graves  stood  tenantless,  and  the  sheeted  dead 
Did  squeak  and  gibber  in  the  Roman  streets ; 
As  stars  with  trains  of  fire  and  dews  of  blood, 
Disasters  in  the  sun  ;  and  the  moist  star 
Upon  whose  influence  Neptune's  Empire  stands 
Was  sick  almost  to  doomsday  with  eclipse. 

In  the  above  'stars'  and  'disasters'  are  plainly  subjects 
with  no  verb.  Perhaps  a  line  was  omitted  by  the  com- 
positor. If  so,  it  has  dropped  into  oblivion.  It  has  been 
suggested  that  '  disasters  in  the  sun '  might  be  changed 


DEPARTMENTS   OF  CRITICISM  9 

to  '  disastrous,  dimmed  the  sun,'  but  that  will  not  do, 
for  comets  do  not  dim  the  sun,  and,  besides,  we  cannot 
give  up  the  great  phrase  '  disasters  in  the  sun.'  Here, 
then,  is  a  place  when  Heminge  and  Condell  failed  in 
their  promise  to  give  us  the  plays  '  cured  and  perfect  of 
their  limbs,  and  all  the  rest  absolute  in  their  numbers 
as  he  conceived  them,'  and  modern  ingenuity  cannot 
touch  it.  We  must  submit  to  one  of  the  great  historical 
misfortunes.  Fortunately  few  of  the  insoluble  cruxes 
occur  in  passages  as  beautiful  as  the  above.  In  some 
cruxes  a  meaning  is  dimly  shadowed  but  cannot  be  for- 
mulated. The  various  suggestions  and  conjectures  as  to 
the  force  of  the  words  and  as  to  the  true  reading  in  these 
cases  are  brought  together  with  great  patience  and  fidel- 
ity by  Dr.  Furness  in  the  notes  on  the  plays  contained 
in  his  great  Variorum  Edition,  and  it  is  to  be  regretted 
that  he  does  not  oftener  sum  up  the  argument  and  give 
a  decision,  which  no  one  is  more  competent  to  do.  Some 
of  the  guesses  are  more  plausible  than  others,  but  as  a 
rule  no  one  is  convincing.  The  unjustifiable  suggestions 
of  the  eighteenth  century  have  as  a  rule  been  rejected. 
The  Globe  Edition  —  based  on  the  Cambridge  Edition 
of  Aldis  and  Wright  —  is  an  example  of  conservative 
scholarship.  In  it  the  passages  where  a  definite  mean- 
ing cannot  be  gathered  without  violent  conjecture  are 
marked  with  a  dagger.  They  number  185,  if  the  writer 
counted  correctly,  and  even  some  of  these  suggest  a 
logical  thought,  shadowy  perhaps,  but  not  entirely  dark. 
It  was  of  course  absolutely  necessary  first  to  settle  as 
nearly  as  possible  on  all  textual  questions.  The  subject 
has  been  exhausted,  and  the  argument  for  the  various 
conjectural  readings  is  easily  accessible.  Nevertheless, 
the  following  interpretation  by  Mr.  F.  Sturges  Allen  of 
Springfield,  almost  unquestionably  correct,  was  made 
in  the  spring  of  1907 :  — 


10  SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS   CRITICS 

'  No,  't  is  slander, 

Wliose  edge  is  sharper  than  the  sword,  whose  tongue 
Outvenoms  all  the  worms  of  Nile,  whose  breath 
Rides  on  the  posting  winds,  and  doth  belie 
All  corners  of  the  world.  —  Cymbeline,  iii,  iv,  38. 

In  order  to  make  sense  of  this,  helie  has  been  inter- 
preted, '  filled  with  lies,'  a  meaning  for  which  no  au- 
thority can  be  found.  The  ordinary  meaning  is,  to 
calumniate.  But  Mr.  Allen  points  out  on  the  authority 
of  the  New  English  Dictionary  that  helie  from  another 
source  meant  'to  lie  around,  to  encompass,  to  belea- 
guer.' This  carries  out  the  strong  image  in  'whose 
breath  rides  on  the  posting  winds.'  A  slander  encom- 
passes the  remote  parts  of  the  world.  This  must  be  the 
sense  intended  by  Shakespeare. 

II.   THE   VERSE-FORM 

Another  subject  of  criticism  is  the  metre  and  scansion, 
question  of  emphasis  and  adjustment  of  voice.  This  is 
largely  a  matter  for  the  consideration  of  the  actor.  Any 
one  with  a  reasonably  good  ear  learns  readily  the  move- 
ment of  the  Shakespearean  verse.  Rarely  does  the  ten- 
syllable  line  or  the  eleven-syllable  line  present  any  dif- 
ficulties. The  end-stopt  verse  of  Love's  Labour 's  Lost 
has  a  different  beauty  from  the  overflow  verse  of  Lear 
and  Cymheline^  but  both  are  poetic  forms,  used  by  the 
author  at  different  periods  of  his  life.  The  first  play 
opens : — 

King.  Let  fame,  that  all  hunt  after  in  their  lives, 
Live  registered  upon  our  brazen  tombs 
And  then  grace  us  in  the  disgrace  of  death ; 
When,  spite  of  cormorant  devouring  Time, 
The  endeavour  of  this  present  breath  may  buy 
•    That  honour  which  shall  bate  his  scythe's  keen  edge 
And  make  us  heirs  of  all  eternity. 


DEPARTMENTS  OF  CRITICISM  11 

The  first  lines  of  Imogen  in  Cymheline  are :  — 

Im.  Dissembling  Courtesy !  How  fine  this  tyrant 

Can  tickle  where  she  wounds !  My  dearest  husband, 
I  something  fear  my  father's  wrath,  but  nothing 
(Always  reserved  my  holy  duty)  what 
His  rage  can  do  on  me :  you  must  be  gone, 
And  I  shall  here  abide  the  hourly  shot 
Of  angry  eyes  ;  not  comforted  to  live 
But  that  there  is  this  jewel  in  the  world, 
That  I  may  see  again. 

The  different  way  in  which  the  phrases  and  clauses 
lie  embedded  in  the  verse  is  quite  evident.  In  the  first 
extract,  grammar  and  metre  frequently  coincide,  in  the 
next  more  rarely.  The  simplest  way  of  distinguishing 
the  end-stopt  and  the  overflow  verse  is  to  observe  the 
greater  number  of  punctuation  marks  at  the  ends  of 
the  lines  of  the  first,  but  a  better  way  is  to  notice  the 
great  difference  of  the  movement  of  the  two  when  they 
are  read  aloud.  The  latter  is  more  free  and  has  an  ele- 
ment of  careless  strength  in  its  freedom;  it  is  more 
conversational  and  dramatic,  and  Shakespeare  used  it 
more  and  more  as  he  grew  older.  Thus  the  proportion 
of  end-stopt  lines  to  overflow  lines  in  Love's  Labour 's 
Lost  is  1  in  18,  and  in  Cymheline  is  1  in  2|,  and  the 
rate  of  increase  in  the  intermediate  plays  is  pretty 
nearly  uniform. 

The  normal  line  of  Shakespeare's  plays  is  the  iambic 
pentameter,  consisting  of  ten  syllables  with  the  accent 
on  the  even-numbered  syllables.  But  as  the  number  of 
accents  is  more  important  than  their  position,  the  line 
is  properly  distinguished  as  the  five-accent  line,  or  the 
line  of  five  stresses,  and  as  occasionally  one  of  the  feet 
or  divisions  of  the  line  contains  three  syllables,  it  is 
sometimes  called  the  line  of  five  measures.  Occasion- 
ally we  find  lines  of  two  measures,  of  three  measures, 


n  SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

and  even  of  six  measures,  but  rarely  of  four  mea- 
sures. 

A  young  man  in  his  first  serious  attempts  at  writing 
adheres  closely  to  the  formal  rules.  As  he  acquires  more 
experience  and  more  confidence,  he  learns  that  the  ob- 
ject of  his  work  is  to  attain  a  certain  literary  effect,  — 
force,  euphony,  or  artistic  presentation,  —  and  that 
sometimes  the  rules  can  properly  be  disregarded  and 
the  object  attained  by  that  very  disobedience.  Great 
men  like  Shakespeare  can  trust  their  instinct  in  this. 
We  find  that  he  modified  his  metrical  practice  consider- 
ably as  he  grew  older.  The  change  was  partly  due  to 
the  change  in  literary  fashion  that  took  place  during 
his  life  and  partly  to  his  own  increasing  perception  of 
the  essence  of  metrical  art.  Taking  one  of  his  earliest 
and  one  of  his  later  plays,  we  find  the  following  pro- 
portions :  ^  — 

Lovers  Labour  's  Lost     Winter's  Tale 

(1611) 

14 

19 

13 

16 

That  is,  he  used  lines  of  irregular  length  more  fre- 
quently in  the  later  play.  In  Shakespeare's  first  plays 
he  frequently  rhymed  his  ten-syllable  verses.  This 
practice  he  gradually  abandoned. 

Rhyming  lines  in  Love's  Labour 's  Lost         1028 
Rhyming  lines  in  Hamlet  81 

Rhyming  lines  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra         42 

»  From  Mr.  Fumivall's  tables. 


(1593) 

Number  of  lines  of 

two  measures 

12 

Number  of  lines  of 

three  measures 

13 

Number  of  lines  of 

four  measures 

0 

Number  of  lines  of 

six  measures 

1 

DEPARTMENTS  OF   CRITICISM  13 

Another  change  in  Shakespeare's  versification  is 
noteworthy.  The  line  of  five  accents  but  eleven  sylla- 
bles is  very  well  adapted  to  conversational  delivery. 
The  last  foot  of  this  is  usually  an  amphibrach,  for 
example :  — 

Farewell,  a  long  farewell,  to  all  my  greatness. 

The  increasing  use  of  this  is  shown  in  Mr.  Fumivall's 
tables  ;  the  proportion  of  eleven-syllable  lines  in  Love''s 
Labour 's  Lost  is  4  per  cent ;  in  Winter^ s  Tale^  31  per 
cent ;  and  in  The  Tempest.,  33  per  cent. 

The  normal  ten-syllable  blank  verse  line  ends,  of 
course,  with  an  accented  syllable.  Towards  the  end  of 
his  life  Shakespeare  fell  into  the  habit  of  ending  the 
line  occasionally  with  an  unimportant  syllable,  like  *  by,' 
*  for,'  '  from,'  —  conjunctions  which  evidently  belong  to 
the  first  word  of  the  next  line. 

These  are  called  weak  endings.  He  also  sometimes 
ended  a  line  with  a  monosyllabic  pronoun  or  verb  be- 
longing to  the  next  line  '  like,'  '  can,'  '  did,'  '  am,'  '  be,' 
'  I,'  etc.  These  are  called  light  endings. 

His  habit  or  usage  at  certain  periods  is  so  well 
marked  in  the  plays  whose  date  of  composition  is  known, 
that  the  metrical  style  of  other  plays,  the  date  of  which 
is  not  fixed,  determines  approximately  the  period  of 
their  production.  The  matter  of  metrical  structure  is 
therefore  of  more  than  merely  mechanical  importance; 
it  marks  the  technical  development  of  the  greatest  art- 
ist of  our  race. 

The  notion  that  by  getting  the  percentage  of  rhymed 
lines,  overflow  lines,  weak-ending  lines,  and  the  like, 
the  student  can  attain  exact  evidence  as  to  the  date  of 
a  play  or  decide  the  precise  parts  of  a  play  written  by 
each  of  two  or  three  joint  authors,  is  very  fascinating 
to  certain  minds.    They  feel  a  pride  in  using  a  new 


14  SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

organ  which  seems  to  impart  to  literature  the  precision 
of  science.  But  the  method,  like  all  statistics,  must  be 
used  with  great  precaution.  Its  success  depends  on  the 
presumption  that  a  poet,  having  modified  his  metrical 
scheme,  never  goes  back  to  his  earlier  style.  This  is  not 
entirely  true,  for  the  style  depends  somewhat  on  the 
subject-matter.  Suppose  that  at  a  late  period  in  his 
career  Shakespeare  had  thought  it  worth  while  to  re- 
write Love's  Labour'' s  Lost,  If  his  associates  and  he 
had  thought  it  a  good  idea,  he  might  have  done  so  im- 
mediately after  he  had  finished  Cymheline,  He  would 
have  retained  a  good  deal  of  the  old  rhyming  matter 
and  have  assimilated  the  new  and  the  old,  have  struck 
out  the  farcical  scenes,  and  have  elevated  Armado,  Holo- 
fernes,  and  Moth  into  the  region  of  witty  comedy.  He 
would  have  remodeled  the  last  act  entirely  and  have 
produced  a  play  in  the  true  comic  spirit.  In  doing  so 
he  would  have  recast  nearly  all  the  prose  in  the  play 
because  the  wit  is  forced  and  thin.  The  result  would  be 
a  play  with  nearly  as  many  rhymes  as  the  present  one; 
and  there  is  no  reason  why  it  should  not  be  virtually 
the  work  of  his  last  period,  for  such  a  rewriting  would 
result  in  a  new  production.  In  other  words,  Shakespeare 
could  have  written  a  rhyming  society  comedy  at  any 
period  of  his  life,  the  only  difference  being  that  it  would 
have  been  a  far  better  comedy  if  written  when  he  was 
forty-nine  than  if  written  when  he  was  twenty-nine. 
And  the  conditions  which  would  have  led  him  to  do  so 
are  by  no  means  inconceivable.  There  is  nothing  abso- 
lute about  rhyme  percentages. 

Mr.  Fleay,  to  whom  we  all  owe  so  much,  has  in  his 
Shakespeare  Handbook  carried  this  method  to  extremes. 
He  proves  that  Twelfth  Night  must  have  been  written 
at  two  different  periods,  and  divides  it  into  two  sepa- 
rate structural  parts,  —  the  Viola  story  and  the  Toby- 


DEPARTMENTS  OF  CRITICISM  15 

Aguecheek-Maria  story.  This  is  manifestly  a  reductio 
ad  absurdnm^  for  the  play  is  evidently  a  unit  and  the 
parts  could  not  have  been  prepared  separately  and  then 
put  together.  Mr.  Swinburne,  in  his  Study  of  Shake- 
speare, has  put  a  capital  bit  of  satire  in  the  appendix, 
entitled  a  'Report  of  a  Session  of  the  Newest  Shake- 
speare Society.'  It  is  excellent  fooling,  though  the  fun 
is  a  trifle  heavy-handed,  and  as  good  an  argument 
against  introducing  scientific  methods  into  literary 
criticism  as  could  be  imagined.  The  scientific  spirit 
may  well  be  infused  with  the  appreciation  of  art,  but 
the  strict  scientific  method  is  inapplicable,  for  method 
depends  on  material  handled. 

Technical  methods  are  not  of  the  essence  of  art. 
There  are  other  more  important  though  unformulated 
qualities.  Such  a  verse  as  :  — 

Now  cracks  a  noble  heart :  •—  Good  night,  sweet  prince, 
And  flights  of  angels  sing  thee  to  thy  rest ! 

is  a  poetic  expression  of  manly  grief.  Its  supreme 
beauty  is  not  affected  by  the  fact  that  the  fourth  foot 
of  the  second  line  is  a  trochee.  It  is  one  of  many  hun- 
dred collocations  of  vowel  and  consonant  sounds  har- 
monious with  the  sentiment  which  are  scattered  through 
Shakespeare's  plays.  Its  logical  rhythm  makes  an  over- 
tone on  the  metrical  beat.  Its  melody  is  an  idealized 
form  of  the  natural  cadence  of  emotion.  This  essential 
element  of  verse  which  appeals  to  the  poetic  sense  might 
be  overlooked  by  one  who  analyzed  the  metrical  form 
alone.  This  reservation,  that  metre  does  not  constitute 
poetic  style  in  the  highest  sense,  must  be  held  in  mind 
in  any  examination  of  the  verse  of  Shakespeare's  plays. 

m.  V  ORDEB  IN  "WHICH  THE  PLAYS  WERE  "WRITTEN 

This  question  is  closely  connected  with  that  of  the 
change  in  metrical  form  alluded  to  above.  It  is  there- 


16  SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS   CRITICS 

fore,  though  historical,  related  to  literary  considerations 
and  bears  on  the  development  of  '  Shakespeare's  Mind 
and  Art/  It  is  settled  by  several  kinds  of  evidence  :  — 

1.  Internal  evidence.  Is  the  thought  and  view  of  life, 
especially  the  conception  of  love,  that  of  a  young,  ardent 
poet  or  that  of  a  mature,  reflective  man  ?  Is  the  versi- 
fication that  of  the  earlier  or  of  the  later  period  of  the 
writer's  technical  development? 

2.  External:  references  to  or  quotations  from  the 
play  in  question  in  contemporaneous  writings  whose 
date  can  be  fixed.  The  most  famous  of  these  is  the  pas- 
sage in  Palladia  Tamia,  a  little  book  published  by 
Francis  Meres  in  1598,  referring  to  twelve  plays  by 
name  and  to  the  Sonnets  as  in  manuscript.  The  dates 
of  the  printing  of  the  quartos  and  of  their  entry  in  the 
stationers'  register  for  license  to  print  are  important, 
as  are  a  few  casual  references  in  diaries  and  the  like. 

3.  External- Internal :  that  is,  when  in  the  play  some 
allusion  is  made  to  an  historical  event  whose  date  is 
well  fixed.  Sometimes  the  allusion  is  so  obscure  that 
no  precise  inference  can  be  drawn.  But  in  the  chorus 
of  Henry  V  the  lines, 

Were  now  the  general  of  our  gracious  empress  — 
As  in  good  time  he  may,  from  Ireland  coming, 
Bringing  rebellion  broached  on  his  sword, 

fix  the  date  positively  between  the  departure  of  the 
Earl  of  Essex,  April  15,  1599,  and  his  return,  Sep- 
tember 28,  1599.  It  is  rarely,  however,  that  as  precise 
evidence  as  this  can  be  found.  The  subject  of  the  suc- 
cession of  the  plays  is  well  and  succinctly  presented  in 
Mr.  Dowden's  Shakspere  Primer, 

TV.  SHAKESPEARE'S  LIFE 

The  materials  bearing  on  Shakespeare's  life  were 
gathered  by  Halliwell-Phillipps  in  a  large  volume  en- 


DEPARTMENTS  OF  CRITICISM  17 

titled  Outlines  of  the  Life  of  Shakespeare,  They  con- 
sist of  deeds,  of  casual  references  to  the  company  of 
players  to  which  Shakespeare  belonged,  legal  entries  of 
his  baptism,  his  will,  and  much  traditional  matter  put 
in  print  after  the  Restoration  of  Charles  II,  some  of 
which  is  of  doubtful  value.  The  amount  of  matter  is 
very  considerable,  and  has  been  so  well  arranged  and 
digested  by  Mr.  Sidney  Lee  in  his  Life  of  Shakespeare 
that  until  some  new  facts  are  disclosed,  which  is  not 
impossible,  students  may  be  confidently  referred  to  Mr. 
Lee's  book.  There  are  lapses  of  time  during  which  little 
or  nothing  is  known  of  Shakespeare's  doings,  and  no 
one  can  say  precisely  what  his  private  character  was, 
for  we  have  no  report  of  a  word  he  uttered.  He  seems 
to  have  been  liked  and  respected,  as  far  as  we  can  judge, 
and  was  not  concerned  in  the  personal  quarrels  of  the 
playwrights. 

The  following  bit  of  familiar  verse  by  the  younger 
Heywood  goes  to  show  that  Shakespeare  was  admitted 
to  easy  familiarity  with  the  playwrights  of  the  day  as 
a  '  worthy  friend  and  fellow.' 

Mario,  renowned  for  his  fair  art  and  wit, 

Could  ne'er  attain  beyond  the  name  of  Kit, 

Although  his  Hero  and  Leander  did 

Merit  addition  rather.  Famous  Kid 

Was  called  but  Tom.  Tom  Watson,  though  he  wrote 

Able  to  make  Apollo's  self  to  dote 

Upon  his  muse,  for  all  that  he  could  strive 

Yet  never  could  to  his  full  name  arrive. 

Tom  Nash,  in  his  time  of  no  small  esteem, 

Could  not  a  second  syllable  redeem. 

Excellent  Beaumont,  in  the  foremost  rank 

Of  the  rarest  wits,  was  never  more  than  Frank. 

Mellifiuous  Shakespeare,  whose  enchanting  quill 

Commanded  mirth  or  passion,  was  hut  Will ; 


18  SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

And  famous  Jonson,  though  his  learned  pen 
Be  dipt  in  Castaly,  is  still  but  Ben. 

Perhaps  it  is  as  well  that  we  know  little  of  him  ex- 
cept as  artist,  because  his  work  as  artist  is  of  such 
surpassing  interest.  It  is  very  difficult  to  resist  the 
impression  that  he  was  personally  attractive,  and  still 
more  difficult  to  resist  the  belief  that  he  was  well 
balanced,  in  spite  of  his  obvious  sympathy  with  human 
weakness.  He  possessed  or  acquired  the  knack  of 
worldly  success.  He  evidently  became  a  remarkable 
judge  of  human  nature,  able  to  estimate  correctly  the 
value  of  the  different  emotions  and  habits  that  make 
up  individual  natures,  and,  consequently,  was  wise  in 
the  highest  sense.  Whether  he  had  the  lower  wisdom 
that  regulates  conduct  in  accordance  with  principles  is 
another  matter.  It  is,  however,  extremely  improbable 
that  he  ever  deviated  seriously,  —  certainly  he  could 
not  have  done  so  for  any  extended  period,  —  from  a 
life  of  sane  and  well-ordered  activity.  He  remains  at 
once  obscure  and  illustrious. 

V.  LITERARY  CRITICISM 

The  most  important  branch  of  Shakespearean  Criti- 
cism is  that  which  has  to  do  with  the  artistic  value  of 
the  plays.  This  is  a  subject  which  has  attracted  the 
literary  artists  of  every  century  succeeding  Shake- 
speare's death.  [Eational  appreciation  may  be  said  to 
begin  in  England  with  Coleridge  early  in  the  nine- 
teenth century,  b^t  funreasoning  admiration ",  existed 
from  the  appearance  of  the  plays,  or  at  least  from  the 
printing  of  the  folio.  The  dramatic  construction  or  thp 
technical  playwright's  work  is  one  branch  of  this  de- 
partment of  Shakespearean  criticism;  the  beai^ty, 
force,  eloquence,  and  wit  off  detached  passages  is 
another.    The  true  nature  of  the  characters  and  ex- 


% 


DEPARTMENTS  OF  CRITICISM  19 

planation  of  their  motives  has  been  a  fruitful  subject, 
and  is  the  most  important  one  of  all.  The  interpretation 
of  great  actors  is  aHfife^nimportant  part  of  this  branch 
of  the  subject,  for  a  really  great  actor  has  a  sym- 
pathetic insight  into  the  nature  of  the  character  he 
represents,  and  in  order  to  give  a  convincing  embodi- 
ment must  study  and  reflect  on  it  assiduously  and 
intelligently.  Analysis  of  the  leading  characters  began 
late  in  the  eighteenth  century,  and  has  formed  the 
burden  of  countless  essays  and  many  ponderous  vol- 
umes. A  review  of  some  of  the  most  important  writings 
on  this  subject  will  be  given  in  the  following  chapters. 
That  'aesthetic  criticism  is  the  most  important  branch 
follows  from  the  fact  that  art  deals  with  the  realities 
which  lie  behind  facts,  and  history  deals  with  the  facts 
themselves. [Artistic  criticism  may  wander  off  into  all 
kinds  of  cloudy  rhapsodies^  but  it  is  no  more  apt  to 
err  than  is  historical  or  scientific  criticism,  as  we  may 
readily  see  in  Fleay's  Shakespeare  Manual  and  in 
much  of  the  eighteenth-century  disputes  over  the  texts. 
The  textual  and  historical  critics  are  apt  to  exult  over 
the  aesthetic  critics,  as  if  their  own  department  was  the 
only  one  based  on  facts  and  truth.  They  forget  that 
their  study,  if  of  any  worth,  is  important  simply  because 
the  plays  are  great  poetry.  Otherwise,  their  labors 
would  be  of  no  more  value  than  the  hours  spent  in 
analyzing  the  moves  of  a  game  of  chess.  It  is  the  poetry 
of  Shakespeare  that  gives  dignity  and  worth  to  Shake- 
spearean scholarship  in  all  branches.  The  historical  and 
textual  scholars  are  in  the  habit  of  referring  disparag- 
ingly to  those  who  discuss  the  jplays  from^he  artistic 
standpoint,  as  'sign-board  critics^'  as  if  they  did  not  care 
to  have  beauties  pointed  out  to  them.  But  it  is  one  of 
the  marks  of  genuine  love  of  beauty  to  desire  expression 
and  sympathy  from  others.  This  is  part  of  the  radical 


i 


20         SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

unselfishness  of  the  artistic  impulse.  If  a  man  discovers 
a  beautiful  thing,  his  first  and  most  natural  thought  is 
to  call  some  one  else  to  share  his  admiration.  The  love 
of  art  is  rooted  in  sympathy  and  communion  of  spirit, 
and  any  one  who  dislikes  to  be  called  to  admire  a  beau- 
tiful thing  does  not  care  for  beauty — at  least  in  that 
form.  Of  course  the  call  must  come  from  one  in  whom 
the  appreciation  is  genuine.  The  '  sign-boards '  must  be 
erected  at  the  cross-roads,  and  indicate  the  right  road. 

VI.    OKIGEN"  OP  THE  PLOTS 

Shakespeare  invented  the  plots  of  Love's  Labour 's 
Lost  and  of  the  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor.  As  a  rule 
he  dramatized  some  tradition  or  current  story,  some- 
times already  dramatized,  that  appealed  to  Englishmen, 
or  some  incidents  from  English  history  as  it  was  known 
to  his  contemporaries.  Some  account  of  the  origin  and 
development  of  the  story  is  usually  given  in  the  introduc- 
tions to  modern  editions  of  his  work.  The  fact  that  he 
availed  himself  of  current  literary  matter  gives  the  folk 
element  to  his  plays  —  makes  them  represent  the  thought 
of  the  people  of  England  of  his  day,  and  not  the  whims 
of  some  literary  clique.  His  handling  of  the  matter 
raised  it  out  of  the  realm  of  folk  literature  and  gave  it 
universality,  while  at  the  same  time  it  preserved  the 
freshness  and  raciness  of  folk  legend.  To  follow  back 
the  story  to  its  genesis  is  a  matter  of  special  training, 
nor  are  the  originals  easy  to  get  at.  We  can,  however, 
easily  observe  how  Shakespeare  turned  the  old  English 
prose  of  Holinshed's  history  and  of  North's  translation 
of  Plutarch  into  dignified  verse.  His  historical  inaccu- 
racies, as  in  Henry  IV,  are  not  of  great  importance, 
because  he  is  always  true  to  English  human  nature.  In 
the  case  of  the  play  of  Othello  it  is  interesting  to  see 
how  magnificently  he  adorned  and  elevated  the  Italian 


DEPARTMENTS   OF   CRITICISM  21 

novel  which  forms  the  basis  of  the  plot.  The  genesis 
and  development  of  Hamlet  can  be  studied  to  advantage, 
since  the  English  translation  of  the  Norse  tale  and  the 
first  quarto  are  given  in  full  in  the  second  volume  of 
Dr.  Furness's  edition.  A  very  useful  compendium  of  the 
stories,  or,  at  least,  a  reference  to  the  originals,  is  given 
in  Dowden's  Shakspere  Primer, 

VII.    HISTOKICAIi  DEVELOPMENT  OF  THE  DKAMA 

The  development  of  the  Elizabethan  drama  and  its 
position  in  the  social  life  of  London,  and  the  tone  and 
character  of  Renaissance  society,  are  special  subjects  in- 
directly bearing  on  a  comprehension  of  Shakespeare's 
plays  and  sonnets.  Symond's  Shakespere's  Predeces- 
sor s^Ward's  History  of  English  Dramatic  Literature, 
and  Sidney  Lee's  Shakespeare^ s  Life  and  Work  throw 
considerable  light  on  a  subject,  to  approach  which  intel- 
ligently we  must  discard  most  of  our  ideas  about  modern 
cities  and  the  modern  theatre  and  form  a  conception  of 
the  sixteenth-century  London.  We  usually  form  our 
notions  of  the  period  from  the  plays  themselves,  and 
are  apt  to  give  a  romantic  tinge  to  an  environment  that 
must  have  had  its  commonplace,  everyday  features, 
like  any  other  years  of  this  working-day  world,  though 
its  dramatic  expression  was  so  highly  imaginative.  We 
should  remember  that,  though  the  poet  was  for  all  time, 
the  plays  were  written  for  his  age.  When  we  consider, 
too,  that  the  plays  were  written  for  a  certain  kind  of 
stage,  their  astonishing  vitality  is  more  evident  to  us, 
for  they  alone  do  not  grow  '  old-fashioned,'  and  are  still 
eminently  playable,  though  not  in  the  least  mechanically 
adapted  to  the  methods  of  modern  acting.  The  criticism 
we  wish  to  review  usually  considers  them  as  detached 
specimens  of  beautiful  literature  existing  in  an  ideal 
world  rather  than  as  practically  actable  plays.   They 


22  SHAKESPEARE   AND  HIS   CRITICS 

are  both,  and  some  knowledge  of  the  stage  and  the  audi- 
ence and  of  the  dramas  preceding  1600  puts  them  in  a 
truer  relation  to  the  humanity  of  their  age  and  of  ours. 
Such  knowledge  is  difficult  to  acquire,  for  it  demands 
imaginative  power.  It  cannot  be  acquired  en  hloc  sim- 
ply by  diligence  in  learning  facts.  It  may  be  regarded 
as,  if  not  a  major  department  of  Shakespearean  criticism, 
at  least  as  a  very  useful  minor. 

vn.  THE  doubtfuIj  plays  and  questions  op 

DIVIDED  AUTHORSHIP 

There  are  a  number  of  plays,  like  the  Two  Noble 
Kinsmen  and  Pericles^  in  which  Shakespeare  aided  an- 
other writer  or  another  writer  aided  him.  The  deter- 
mination of  the  respective  parts  is  a  matter  of  great 
delicacy,  and  is  effected  by  consideration  of  style  — 
largely  by  the  percentages  of  eleven-syllable  lines  and 
run-on  lines  in  the  different  portions.  This  very  diffi- 
cult question  is  then  decided  by  the  extension  of  the 
methods  already  alluded  to,  but  forms  no  part  of  our 
general  subject. 


CHAPTER  II 

CRITICISM  OF  SHAKESPEARE  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 
AND  UP  TO  THE  RESTORATION 

Shakespeare  came  to  London  to  live  in  the  year  1585 
or  1586.  His  three  children  were  all  born  before  the 
earlier  date.  There  is  no  record  that  he  revisited  Strat- 
ford before  1596.  He  left  London  and  returned  to  his 
native  village  as  a  permanent  home  about  1611.  In  the 
interval  he  had  written  thirty-one  plays  and  helped  in 
the  composition  or  writing  of  five  or  six  others,  —  had 
written  two  poems  of  considerable  length  and  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty-six  sonnets.  He  is  first  alluded  to  by  the 
playwright,  Robert  Greene  (who  died  in  September, 
1592)  in  rather  an  ill-natured  way,  in  a  pamphlet  en- 
titled, '  A  Groat's  Worth  of  Wit  bought  with  a  Million 
of  Repentance,'  which  shows  at  least  that  he  was  at- 
tracting attention  as  a  writer.  That  the  tone  of  this 
reference  was  resented  by  some  of  his  friends  is  proved 
by  some  apologetic  words  penned  by  Henry  Chettle  in 
December  of  the  same  year,  in  the  preface  to  another 
pamphlet.  Chettle  says  that  he  is  sorry  that  he  did  not 
moderate  the  expressions  in  the  original  pamphlet^  which 
he  edited,  as  he '  might  easily  have  done,'  because '  divers 
of  worship,'  i.  e.,  several  people  of  worth,  have  told  him, 
what  he  had  noticed  himself,  that  the  man  in  question 
was  '  civil  in  his  demeanor  and  excellent  in  the  quality 
he  professes.'  That  Shakespeare  is  the  man  alluded  to 
as  an  '  upstart  crow '  in  the  original  pamphlet  is  evident 
from  the  fact  that  Greene  says, '  he  is,  in  his  owne  con- 
ceit, the  only  Shakescene  in  the  countrie.'  Greene  was 
of  course  jealous  of  him  as  a  young  writer,  but  Chettle 


24  SHAKESPEARE  AND   HIS  CRITICS 

alludes  only  to  his  '  excellence  in  his  qualitie,'  that  is, 
acting.  At  this  date,  however,  he  had  done  nothing  more 
than  to  help  in  rewriting  three  parts  of  Henry  VI, 
which  came  out  in  March,  1592.  Lovers  Labour 's  Lost, 
probably  his  first  complete  play,  may  have  been  written, 
but  in  the  expression  'bumbast  out  a  blank  verse  as 
well  as  the  best  of  you '  Greene  evidently  refers  to  a 
historical  play  and  not  a  graceful  comedy,  nor  does  it 
seem  probable  that  the  expression  refers  simply  to  act- 
ing. There  is,  however,  in  this  reference  to  Shake- 
speare's early  work  no  hint  of  literary  criticism.  We 
can  gather  from  it,  however,  that  Shakespeare  had 
begun  to  write,  and  that  his  work  was  good  enough  to 
arouse  the  jealousy  of  older  men. 

The  next  six  years  was  a  period  of  great  activity 
and  rapidly  rising  success,  for  in  1597  the  young  man, 
though  but  thirty-three,  was  able  to  buy  a  large  house 
in  Stratford.  In  1598  Francis  Meres  brought  out  a 
little  book  entitled  Palladis  Tamia,  in  which  is  the 
famous  reference  to  the  dramatist-poet. 

The  English  tongue  is  mightily  enriched  and  gorgeously 
invested  in  rare  ornaments  and  resplendent  abiliments  by  Sir 
Philip  Sidney,  Spenser,  Daniel,  Drayton,  Warner,  Shake- 
speare, Marlow,  and  Chapman. 

As  the  soule  of  Euphorbus  was  thought  to  live  in  Pythag- 
oras, so  the  sweete,  wittie  soule  of  Ovid  lives  in  mellifluous 
and  hony-tongued  Shakespeare ;  witness  his  Venus  and 
Adonis,  his  Lucrece,  his  Sugred  Sonnets  among  his  private 
friends. 

As  Plautus  and  Seneca  are  accounted  the  best  for  comedy 
and  tragedy  among  the  Latines,  so  Shakespeare  among  the 
English  is  the  most  excellent  in  both  kinds  for  the  stage ;  for 
comedy,  witness,  his  Gentlemen  of  Verona,  his  Errors,  his 
Love's  Labour 's  Lost,  his  Midsummer- Nig hfs  Dream,  and 
his  Merchant  of  Venice  ;  for  tragedy,  his  Eichard  the  Second, 


CRITICISM   BY  CONTEMPORARIES         25 

Richard  the  Third,  Henry  the  Fourth,  King  John,  Titus 
Andronicus,  and  his  Romeo  and  Juliet. 

As  Epius  Stolo  said  the  Muses  would  speak  with  Plautus' 
tongue,  if  they  would  speak  Latin  ;  so  I  say  that  the  Muses 
would  speak  with  Shakespeare's  fine  filed  phrase  if  they 
would  speak  English. 

We  gather  from  the  above,  and  from  the  seventeen 
other  contemporary  references  to  Shakespeare  given  in 
Halliwell's  Outlines,  that  the  popular  reputation  of  the 
poet  was  as  great  in  his  lifetime  as  at  any  subsequent 
period,  not  only  among  playgoers  but  among  lovers  of 
poetry.  Among  scholars  and  among  the  literary  people 
he  was  apparently  not  held  in  as  high  estimation  as  he 
has  been  since  the  seventeenth  century.  A  popular 
reputation  is  usually  ephemeral,  but  in  the  cases  of 
Shakespeare  and  Bunyan  it  has  proved  lasting.  A  con- 
temporary reputation  among  writers  and  scholars  is 
achieved  by  good  work,  but  it  must  be  good  work  in 
the  conventional  fashion.  They  are  more  shy  of  new 
methods  than  are  those  who  read  or  look  at  a  play  for 
the  sake  of  being  touched  or  amused.  In  the  seven- 
teenth century  the  Latin  and  Greek  authors  were 
recognized  as  models.  The  authority  of  the  Latin  lan- 
guage was  very  great.  It  had  been  the  recognized  me- 
dium for  jurists  and  philosophers  and  publicists  for  a 
thousand  years.  Its  acquirement  was  the  centre  of 
education.  The  study  of  Greek  was  introduced  into 
English  universities  late  in  the  sixteenth  century,  and 
the  beauties  of  Greek  literature  made  a  great  impres- 
sion on  receptive  minds,  and  it,  too,  soon  was  regarded 
as  authoritative  on  points  of  literary  art.  Men  are  very 
apt  to  overestimate  the  value  of  what  they  painfully 
acquired  in  youth,  much  as  persons  to-day  plume  them- 
selves on  their  accurate  spelling  of  English  words. 
Phrases  in  a  foreign  language  have  a  peculiar  flavor  of 


26  SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

depth  and  mystery.  For  this  reason  Matthew  Arnold 
quotes  in  his  criticism  some  Latin  phrases  as  if  of 
ultimate  poetic  perfection,  and  the  men  of  Shakespeare's 
day  used  Latin  quotations  as  if  the  words  held  pecul- 
iar virtue.  As  a  rule,  too,  evil  spirits  paid  little  atten- 
tion to  adjurations  unless  couched  in  sonorous  Latin. 
The  Latin  and  Greek  authors  were  regarded  as  a  race 
apart  from  and  above  English  writers.  The  rules 
for  correctness  and  excellence  were  to  be  drawn  from 
their  practice,  and  there  has  been  a  tendency  down  to 
the  last  decade  of  the  nineteenth  century  to  deduce 
even  grammatical  rules  for  English  speech  from  their 
writings,  sometimes  from  the  most  rhetorical  of  Latin 
authors. 

The  rules  which  Aristotle  deduced  from  an  exami- 
nation of  Greek  Tragedies  were  therefore  regarded  as 
laws  for  English  tragedy.  Shakespeare  rarely  pays  any 
attention  to  these  rules.  Consequently,  for  a  long  time, 
down  to  the  nineteenth  century,  he  was  considered 
*  irregular.'  The  attraction  of  his  plays  was  admitted, 
indeed,  it  forced  itself  on  men's  attention  every  time  a 
really  competent  actor  personated  one  of  his  characters. 
The  force,  wit,  and  eloquence  of  detached  passages 
could  not  be  denied.  This  was  attributed  to  inspiration, 
but  his  dramatic  construction  was  considered  all  wronsf 
because  he  did  not  regard  the  '  unities.'  We  shall  see 
hereafter  how,  in  spite  of  English  good  sense,  this  view 
recurs  in  the  criticism  of  the  eighteenth  century. 

The  most  important  critical  expressions  of  Shake- 
speare's contemporaries  after  his  death  are  to  be  found 
in  the  eulogistic  verses  prefixed  to  the  folio  editions  of 
the  seventeenth  century.  The  First  Folio  of  1623  Mr. 
Lee  considers  to  have  consisted  of  five  hundred  copies, 
judging  from  the  number  now  existing.  Even  then 
doubtless   many  quarto   pamphlets   containing   single 


CRITICISM   BY   CONTEMPORARIES  27 

plays  were  in  existence  and  could  be  procured  by  those 
desirous  of  reading  the  plays,  and  many  of  what  are 
known  as  'players'  quartos,'  published  after  the  print- 
ing of  the  First  Folio,  in  1623.  These  last  of  course  are 
of  no  authority  in  settling  disputed  points  in  the  text, 
since  they  must  be  copies  of  earlier  publications,  and 
in  printing  them  no  particular  attention  was  paid  to 
correctness,  certainly  no  effort  was  made  for  improve- 
ment. But  the  fact  that  only  four  editions  for  readers, 
amounting  in  all  probably  to  not  more  than  three  thou- 
sand five  hundred  copies,  were  printed  till  the  six- 
volume  edition  of  Rowe,  in  1709,  shows  that  outside  of 
the  public  representations  few  persons  could  have  had 
an  opportunity  of  knowing  the  plays.  The  fact,  too, 
that  twenty-four  years  (1685-1709)  elapsed  between 
the  printing  of  the  Fourth  Folio  and  the  first  popular 
edition  shows  that  Shakespeare  as  an  author  was  not 
accessible  to  the  general  public.  During  the  entire 
seventeenth  century  fewer  copies  were  sold  than  the 
present  yearly  demand.  This  fact  would  go  to  show 
that,  for  a  considerable  period,  love  for  Shakespeare 
was  confined  to  readers  of  some  special  powers  of 
poetic  appreciation.  At  the  same  time  the  number  of 
times  the  plays  were  represented  after  the  Restoration, 
from  1660  to  1709,  shows  that  his  hold  on  audiences 
was  interrupted  but  briefly,  and  then  not  by  change  in 
taste,  but  by  outside  circumstances. 

Samuel  Pepys,  whose  diary  runs  from  1660  to  1669, 
was  present  at  the  representation  of  twelve  plays  of 
Shakespeare.  He  saw  Hamlet  four  times  and  Tlie  Tem- 
pest  and  Macbeth  many  times.  As  his  diary  was  in 
shorthand  and  in  no  way  addressed  to  the  public,  it  is 
absolutely  unbiased.  Furthermore,  as  he  was  a  man 
destitute  of  poetic  insight,  his  criticisms  are  valuable  as 
representing  the  views  of  the  average  playgoer,  and 


28  SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

will  be  referred  to  hereafter.  For  the  present  we  note 
that  the  acting  qualities  of  the  plays  insured  their  con- 
tinuous public  presentation,  even  when  it  was  hard  to 
buy  the  '  book  of  the  play.'  The  literary  critics  were  in 
time  forced  to  recognize  them,  and  after  a  century  or 
so  discovered  their  great  literary  qualities  and  began 
reluctantly  to  admit  that  the  '  rules '  were  not  of  abso- 
lute validity. 

The  eulogistic  verses  in  the  folios  must  of  course 
be  interpreted  as  obituary  notices,  in  which  praise  is 
awarded  without  much  discrimination.  Prefixed  to  edi- 
tions of  the  plays  they  do  not  refer  to  '  the  back  or 
second,  that  might  hold  if  this  should  blast  in  proof,' 
—  the  claim  to  the  title  of  poet  based  on  the  poems  and 
sonnets.  But  Ben  Jonson's  verses  have  a  hearty  ring, 
and  his  conviction  that  Shakespeare  was  a  great  poet 
shines  through  the  exaggerated  language  of  post-mor- 
tem encomium.  He  says,  — 

\^  Triumph,  my  Britain !  thou  hast  one  to  show 

To  whom  all  scenes  of  Europe  homage  owe. 

Although  the  verses  are  so  familiar,  it  is  as  well  to 
transcribe  them,  as  the  first  authoritative  statement  of 
Shakespeare's  greatness. 

COMMENDATORY  VERSES 

PREFIXED   TO   THE   FOLIO   OF   1623 

To  the  memory  of  my  beloved,  the  Author,  Master  WILLIAM 
SHAKESPEARE,  and  what  he  hath  lejl  us. 

To  draw  no  envy,  Shakespeare,  on  thy  name, 
Am  I  thus  ample  to  thy  book  and  fame ; 
While  I  confess  thy  writings  to  be  such 
As  neither  man  nor  Muse  can  praise  too  much : 
'T  is  true,  and  all  men's  suffrage.    But  these  ways 
Were  not  the  paths  I  meant  unto  thy  praise ; 


CRITICISM   BY   CONTEMPORARIES  29 

For  silliest  ignorance  on  these  may  light, 

Which,  when  it  sounds  at  best,  but  echoes  right ; 

Or  blind  affection,  which  doth  ne'er  advance 

The  truth,  but  gropes,  and  urgeth  all  by  chance ; 

Or  crafty  malice  might  pretend  this  praise, 

And  think  to  ruin  where  it  seem'd  to  raise : 

These  are  as  some  infamous  bawd  or  whore 

Should  praise  a  matron  :  what  could  hurt  her  more  ? 

But  thou  art  proof  against  them  ;  and,  indeed, 

Above  th'  ill  fortune  of  them  or  the  need. 

I,  therefore,  will  begin :  Soul  of  the  age, 

Th'  applause,  delight,  the  wonder  of  our  stage. 

My  Shakespeare,  rise !  I  will  not  lodge  thee  by 

Chaucer  or  Spenser,  or  bid  Beaumont  lie 

A  little  further,  to  make  thee  a  room : 

Thou  art  a  monument  without  a  tomb, 

And  art  alive  still,  while  thy  book  doth  live. 

And  we  have  wits  to  read,  and  praise  to  give. 

That  I  not  mix  thee  so,  my  brain  excuses,  — 

I  mean,  with  great  but  disproportion'd  Muses ; 

For,  if  I  thought  my  judgment  were  of  years, 

I  should  commit  thee  surely  with  thy  peers, 

And  tell  how  far  thou  didst  our  Lyly  outshine. 

Or  sporting  Kyd,  or  Marlowe's  mighty  line : 

And,  though  thou  hadst  small  Latin  and  less  Greek, 

From  thence  to  honour  thee  I  would  not  seek 

For  names  ;  but  call  forth  thundering  ^schylus, 

Euripides,  and  Sophocles  to  us, 

Pacuvius,  Accius,  him  of  Cordova,  dead, 

To  life  again,  to  hear  thy  buskin  tread 

And  shake  a  stage ;  or,  when  thy  socks  were  on, 

Leave  thee  alone  for  the  comparison 

Of  all  that  insolent  Greece  or  haughty  Rome 

Sent  forth,  or  since  did  from  their  ashes  come.  — 

Triumph,  my  Britain !  thou  hast  one  to  show, 

To  whom  all  scenes  of  Europe  homage  owe. 

He  was  not  of  an  age,  but  for  all  time ; 

And  all  the  Muses  still  were  in  their  prime. 


30  SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS   CRITICS 

When,  like  Apollo,  he  came  forth  to  warm 

Our  ears,  or  like  a  Mercury  to  charm. 

Nature  herself  was  proud  of  his  designs, 

And  joy'd  to  wear  the  dressing  of  his  lines ; 

Which  were  so  richly  spun,  and  woven  so  fit, 

As  since  she  will  vouchsafe  no  other  wit : 

The  merry  Greek,  tart  Aristophanes, 

Neat  Terence,  witty  Plautus,  now  not  please ; 

But  antiquated  and  deserted  lie, 

As  they  were  not  of  Nature's  family.  — 

Yet  must  I  not  give  Nature  all ;  thy  art, 

My  gentle  Shakespeare,  must  enjoy  a  part : 

For,  though  the  poet's  matter  Nature  be, 

His  art  doth  give  the  fashion ;  and  that  he 

Who  casts  to  write  a  living  line  must  sweat,  — 

Such  as  thine  are,  —  and  strike  the  second  heat 

Upon  the  Muses'  anvil ;  turn  the  same, 

And  himself  with  it,  that  he  thinks  to  frame ; 

Or,  for  the  laurel,  he  may  gain  a  scorn,  — 

For  a  good  poet  's  made,  as  well  as  born : 

And  such  wert  thou.  —  Look  how  the  father's  face 

Lives  in  his  issue ;  even  so  the  race 

Of  Shakespeare's  mind  and  manners  brightly  shines 

In  his  well-turned  and  true-filed  lines ; 

In  each  of  which  he  seems  to  shake  a  lance, 

As  brandish'd  at  the  eyes  of  ignorance.  — 

Sweet  Swan  of  Avon,  what  a  sight  it  were 

To  see  thee  in  our  waters  yet  appear. 

And  make  those  flights  upon  the  banks  of  Thames 

That  so  did  take  Eliza  and  our  James  ! 

But  stay ;  I  see  thee  in  the  hemisphere 

Advanced,  and  made  a  constellation  there : 

Shine  forth,  thou  star  of  poets,  and  with  rage 

Or  influence  chide  or  cheer  the  drooping  stage ; 

Which,    since    thy   flight   from   hence,   hath   mourn'd   like 

night. 
And  despairs  day,  but  for  thy  volume's  light. 

Ben  Jonsox. 


CRITICISM  BY  CONTEMPORARIES  31 

The  testimony  to  the  author's  literary  craftmanship 
is  explicit  when  he  writes :  — 

His  lines 
Which  were  so  richly  spun,  and  woven  so  fit, 
As  since  she  [Nature]  will  vouchsafe  no  other  wit. 

He  gives  him  credit  for  natural  powers  and  technical 
skill  both :  — 

Yet  must  I  not  give  Nature  all ;  thy  art, 
My  gentle  Shakespeare,  must  enjoy  a  part. 

He  speaks  of  his  'well-turned  and  true-filed  lines' 
which  is  not  altogether  a  just  characterization  of  Shake- 
speare's later  work,  —  Cymheline^  for  example,  — 
where  the  emotion  and  idea  seem  almost  too  much  for 
the  line,  and  strain  the  words  as  if  to  tear  them  apart, 
occasionally  striking  out  a  great  phrase  where  music 
and  idea  meet  in  a  harmony  far  beyond  the  grace  of 
'  weU-filed  lines.'  But  the  poem  is  a  noble  tribute  to 
friend,  dramatist,  and  poet. 

Leonard  Digges,  a  university  man,  contributed  twenty- 
two  lines  to  the  first  folio,  claiming  immortality  for 
the  plays.  He  speaks  of  his  '  wit-fraught  book,'  —  wit, 
signifying  thought.  Both  in  these  verses  and  in  a  longer 
poem  introducing  an  edition  of  the  poems  (1640)  he 
speaks  of  the  acting  quality  of  the  plays,  which  were  so 
much  more  acceptable  than  the  Fox  or  Alchemist  of 
Ben  Jonson.  In  the  first  one  he  says :  — 

Impossible  with  some  new  strain  to  outdo 

Passions  of  Juliet  and  her  Romeo, 

Or  till  I  hear  a  scene  more  nobly  take 

Than  when  thy  half-sword-parleying  Romans  spake. 

*  Half-sword-parleying  Romans '  applies  admirably  to 
the  dialogue  between  Brutus  and  Cassius. 

In  the  preface  to  the  1640  edition  of  the  poems,  the 


32  SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

writer  says  of  them :  '  You  shall  find  them  severe,  clear, 
and  elegantly  plaine,  such  gentle  straines  as  shall  re- 
create and  not  perplex  your  braine,  no  intricate  or 
cloudy  stuffe  to  puzzle  intellect,  but  perfect  eloquence.' 
As  the  sonnets,  many  of  which  are  the  most  suggestive 
and  profound  poetry  in  the  world,  make  up  the  major 
part  of  the  volume  and  certainly  '  perplex  the  braine '  of 
the  reader  as  to  how  far  they  are  based  on  real  exper- 
ience, —  a  question  never  to  be  settled,  —  our  trust  in 
seventeenth-century  prefaces  is  considerably  shaken  by 
this  offhand  utterance.  It  would  be  interesting  to  know 
how  he  gathers  a  *  severe,  clear,  and  elegantly  plaine ' 
meaning  out  of  Sonnets  121  and  125. 

John  Milton's  first  public  appearance  in  print  was 
made  by  sixteen  verses  in  the  Second  Folio,  1632,  he 
being  then  in  his  twenty-seventh  year.  It  contains  the 
well-known  line :  — 

Dear  Son  of  memory,  great  heir  of  fame, 

but  he,  too,  speaks  of  Shakespeare's  '  easy  numbers 
which  flow  to  the  shame  of  slow,  endeavoring  art,'  as  if 
he  were  more  struck  with  the  natural  grace  of  Shake- 
speare's verse  than  with  the  power  and  justness  of  his 
thought.  But  he  speaks,  too,  of  '  the  unvalued  book ' 
and  the  *  Delphic  lines.' 

A  year  or  two  later,  in  U Allegro^  he  writes :  — 

If         

Sweetest  Shakespeare,  Fancy's  child, 
Warble  his  native  wood-notes  wild, 

and  makes  Ben  Jonson  the  exemplar  of  English  tragedy. 
It  would  seem  from  this  that  he  did  not  appreciate  the 
epic  grandeur  of  Macbeth  or  the  tragic  pathos  of  Desde- 
mona  and  Cordelia.  But  the  reference  need  not  be  taken 
too  seriously.  He  needed  to  refer  to  a  dignified,  stately 
play  and  to  a  charming  pastoral  comedy ;  possibly  he 


CRITICISM  BY  CONTEMPORARIES  33 

had  Midsummer  Nighfs  Dream  in  mind,  and  naturally- 
thought  of  Jonson  and  Shakespeare.  But  undoubtedly, 
like  most  of  his  learned  contemporaries,  he  failed  en- 
tirely to  appreciate  the  nature  and  quality  of  Shake- 
speare's genius.  For  in  II  Penseroso  he  says  of  serious 
plays :  — 

And  what,  though  rare,  of  later  age, 
Ennobled  hath  the  buskined  stage. 

Lear  and  Macbeth  evidently  had  not  made  much  im- 
pression on  him,  or  he  would  not  have  passed  by  English 
tragedy  with  such  slighting  mention. 

In  this  Second  Folio  (1632),  however,  appeared  a  copy 
of  verses  signed  I.  M.  S.,  initials  which  Mr.  Singer  sup- 
poses to  stand  for  the  last  name  of  Richard  James. 
These,  too,  must  be  transcribed  in  full,  not  only  as 
an  admirable  specimen  of  overflow  deca-syllabics,  but 
as  the  first  acknowledgment  of  one  of  the  chiefest  of 
Shakespeare's  powers,  his  ability  to  make  a  character 
real: — 

A  mind  reflecting  ages  past,  whose  clear 

And  equal  surface  can  make  things  appear,  — 

Distant  a  thousand  years,  —  and  represent 

Them  in  their  lively  colours,  just  extent : 

To  outrun  hasty  Time,  retrieve  the  Fates, 

Roll  back  the  heavens,  blow  ope  the  iron  gates 

Of  Death  and  Lethe,  where  confused  lie 

Great  heaps  of  ruinous  mortality : 

In  that  deep,  dusky  dungeon  to  discern 

A  royal  ghost  from  churls  ;  by  art  to  learn 

The  physiognomy  of  shades,  and  give 

Them  sudden  birth,  wondering  how  oft  they  live ; 

What  story  coldly  tells,  what  poets  feign 

At  second  hand,  and  picture  without  brain,  — 

Senseless  and  soulless  shows,  —  to  give  a  stage  — 

Ample  and  true  with  life,  —  voice,  action,  age. 


34  SHAKESPEAEE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

As  Plato's  year,  and  new  scene  of  the  world, 
Them  unto  us,  or  us  to  them  had  hurl'd : 
To  raise  our  ancient  sovereigns  from  their  hearse, 
Made  kings  his  subjects  ;  by  exchanging  verse 
Enlive  their  pale  trunks,  that  the  present  age 
Joys  in  their  joy,  and  trembles  at  their  rage ; 
Yet  so  to  temper  passion,  that  our  ears 
Take  pleasure  in  their  pain,  and  eyes  in  tears 
Both  weep  and  smile ;  fearful  at  plots  so  sad, 
Then  laughing  at  our  fear ;  abused,  and  glad 
To  be  abused ;  affected  with  that  truth 
Which  we  perceive  is  false,  pleased  in  that  ruth 
At  which  we  start,  and  by  elaborate  play 
Tortured  and  tickled ;  by  a  crab-like  way 
Time  past  made  pastime,  and  in  ugly  sort 
Disgorging  up  his  ravin  for  our  sport :  — 
While  the  plebeian  imp,  from  lofty  throne, 
Creates  and  rules  a  world,  and  works  upon 
Mankind  by  secret  engines  ;  now  to  move 
A  chilling  pity,  then  a  rigorous  love  ; 
To  strike  up  and  stroke  down  both  joy  and  ire ; 
To  stir  th'  affections ;  and  by  heavenly  fire 
Mould  us  anew,  stol'n  from  ourselves  :  — 
This,  and  much  more  which  cannot  be  express'd 
But  by  himself,  his  tongue,  and  his  own  breast. 
Was  Shakespeare's  freehold;  which  his  cunning 

brain 
Improved  by  favour  of  the  nine-fold  train ; 
The  buskin'd  Muse,  the  comic  queen,  the  grand 
And  louder  tone  of  Clio,  nimble  hand 
And  nimbler  foot  of  the  melodious  pair, 
The  silver-voiced  lady,  the  most  fair 
Calliope,  whose  speaking  silence  daunts, 
And  she  whose  praise  the  heavenly  body  chants  5 
These  jointly  woo'd  him,  envying  one  another,  — 
Obey'd  by  all  as  spouse,  but  loved  as  brother,  — 
And  wrought  a  curious  robe,  of  sable  grave. 
Fresh  green,  and  pleasant  yellow,  red  most  brave, 


CRITICISM  BY  CONTEMPORARIES  35 

And  constant  blue,  rich  purple,  guiltless  white, 
The  lowest  russet,  and  the  scarlet  bright ; 
Branch'd  and  embroider'd  like  the  painted  Spring; 
Each  leaf  match'd  with  a  flower,  and  each  string 
Of  golden  wire,  each  line  of  silk  ;  there  run 
Italian  works,  whose  thread  the  sisters  spun  ; 
And  there  did  sing,  or  seem  to  sing,  the  choice 
Birds  of  a  foreign  note  and  various  voice ; 
Here  hangs  a  mossy  rock ;  there  plays  a  fair 
But  chiding  fountain,  purled ;  not  the  air, 
Nor  clouds  nor  thunder,  but  were  living  drawn,  — 
Not  out  of  common  tiffany  or  lawn, 
But  fine  materials,  which  the  Muses  know, 
And  only  know  the  countries  where  they  grow. 
Now,  when  they  could  no  longer  him  enjoy 
In  mortal  garments  pent,  —  '  Death  may  destroy,' 
They  say,  '  his  body ;  but  his  verse  shall  live. 
And  more  than  Nature  takes  our  hands  shall  give ; 
In  a  less  volume,  but  more  strongly  bound, 
Shakespeare  shall  breathe  and  speak;    with  laurel 

crown 'd 
Which  never  fades ;  fed  with  ambrosian  meat.' 
So  with  this  robe  they  clothe  him,  bid  him  wear  it ; 
For  time  shall  never  stain  nor  envy  tear  it. 

The  writer  apparently  is  thinking  of  Henry  IV, 
Richard  III,  and  the  other  Shakespearean  kings ;  possi- 
bly, too,  of  the  Roman  plays.  He  says  it  was  '  Shake- 
speare's freehold  to  give  shades'  sudden  birth — a  stage 
ample  and  true  with  life,  voice,  action,  age,'  as  if  they 
had  come  back  to  play  their  parts  in  the  revolution  of 
Plato's  year ;  that  the  artist,  standing  outside  his  work, 
'  creates  and  rules  a  world.'  It  is  a  '  world,'  not  a  nebu- 
lous chaos,  in  which  his  figures  move,  an  ordered  world 
where  law  reigns  and  men  act  from  motives  and  char- 
acter, because  its  creator  rules  it.  The  characters  live, 
and  move 


36  SHAKESPEARE   AND   HIS  CRITICS 

A  chilling  pity,  then  a  rigorous  love  .  .". 

The  present  age 
Joys  in  their  joy,  and  trembles  at  their  rage. 

Is  he  thinking  of  Othello  ?  At  all  events,  he  touches 
the  point  with  a  needle.  Shakespeare's  characters  have 
the  attributes  of  living  men  and  women.  And  I.  M.  S. 
enunciates  for  the  first  time — to  be  forgotten  for  a  cen- 
tury and  rediscovered  by  Coleridge  —  the  main  princi- 
ple of  Shakespearean  criticism.  He  calls  the  author  a 
'  plebeian  imp,'  ^  but  at  least  he  puts  him  on  a  '  lofty 
throne,'  and  we  must  take  it  that  the  playwright  is 
'plebeian '  compared  to  the  royal  ghosts  he  marshals, for 
compared  to  the  living  princes,  James  I  and  his  sons, 
he  is  an  aristocrat.  But  it  is  hard  to  forgive  I.  M.  S.  for 
the  adjective.  Perhaps  he  could  not  hit  on  any  other 
epithet  to  fill  out  his  line.  His  assertion  that  Shake- 
speare '  by  heavenly  fire  moulds  us  anew,  stolen  from 
ourselves,'  is  almost  as  true  of  the  effect  of  a  tragedy  as 
Aristotle's  phrase,  'purge  our  affections  through  pity 
and  terror.'  I.  M.  S.  not  only  loved  Shakespeare's  plays, 
but  he  could  give  some  reason  for  the  faith  that  was  in 
him,  and  his  words  are  true  dramatic  criticism. 

In  the  Centurie  of  Prayse^  published  by  the  New 
Shakespearean  Society,  are  collected  all  the  casual  refer- 
ences to  the  dramatist  in  the  hundred  years  following 
his  death.  They  are  almost  universally  commendatory, 
but  none  of  them  show  appreciation  of  the  true  great- 
ness of  the  author.  The  adjectives  :  '  honey-ton gued,' 
*  sweet,'  *  mellifluous,' 'honey-flowing,'  'gentle,'  'silver- 
tongued,'  '  enchanting  quill,'  '  sugred  dainties,'  and  the 
like,  show  that  the  writers  as  a  rule  had  not  got  much 

1  There  is  nothing  derogatory  in  the  term  *  imp,'  which  did  not 
mean  at  that  time  a  puny  devil  of  low  social  standing.  There  were 
then /imps  of  light '  as  well  as  'imps  of  darkness.'  But  'ple- 
beian '  provokes  at  least  the  counter-check  quarrelsome. 


CRITICISM   BY   CONTEMPORARIES  37 

beyond  the  most  superficial  view  of  the  plays,  and  did 
not  feel  much  more  than  the  harmony  of  certain  pas- 
sages. It  is  not  till  1640  that  a  more  broad-minded 
critic  calls  him '  lofty,'  and  till  1653  that  another  calls 
him  *  most  rich  in  humors.'  The  numerous  passages, 
about  seventy-five,  from  writings  before  Shakespeare's 
death,  in  which  some  of  his  characters  or  situations  are 
plainly  alluded  to,  or  some  striking  lines  parodied,  show 
distinctly  that  the  writers  assumed  that  readers  were 
familiar  with  the  plays.  Shakespeare's  position  in  the 
latter  part  of  his  life  seems  to  have  been  not  unlike  that 
of  Dickens  in  1860,  when  everybody  referred  to  his 
characters  as  common  acquaintances  and  the  literary 
and  learned  world  had  not  begun  to  discuss  the  question 
whether  he  was  an  artist  or  not.  Among  the  characters, 
Richard  III,  Falstaff,  and  Justice  Shallow  are  the  most 
frequently  mentioned.  In  fact,  they  quoted  Shakespeare 
just  as  we  now  quote  Kipling,  familiarly,  arid  with  no 
thought  of  the  critics. 

Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  in  their  amusing  burlesque, 
The  Knight  of  the  Burning  Pestle^  quote  Hotspur's 
words  in  Henry  /F,  Part  1,  as  follows :  — 

By  Heaven,  methinks  it  were  an  easy  leap, 

To  pluck  bright  honour  from  the  pale-faced  moon, 

Or  dive  into  the  bottom  of  the  sea, 

And  pluck  up  drowned  honour  from  the  lake  of  hell. 

The  original  runs :  — 

By  Heaven,  methinks  it  were  an  easy  leap, 

To  pluck  bright  honour  from  the  pale-faced  moon, 

Or  dive  into  the  bottom  of  the  deep, 

Where  fathom  line  could  never  touch  the  ground, 

And  pluck  up  drowned  honour  by  the  locks. 

The  quotation  is  evidently  made  from  memory,  and 
with  full  confidence  that  it  would  be  at  once  recognized 


38  SHAKESPEARE   AND   HIS   CRITICS 

by  the  audience.  Such  offhand  reference  is  the  highest 
tribute  to  the  popularity  of  the  original. 

In  a  play,  Return  from  Parnassus,  1601,  written 
by  a  student  for  the  Christmas  festivities  at  Cambridge, 
the  actors  Kempe  and  Burbage  appear  as  dramatis 
personce,  Kempe  says :  — 

*  Few  of  the  Universities  pen  plays  well,  they  smell  too 
much  of  Ovid  and  that  writer  Metamorphosis  and  talk  too 
much  of  Proserpina  and  Jupiter.  Why,  here  's  our  fellow 
Shakespeare  puts  them  all  downe,  —  ay,  and  Ben  Jonson 
too.' 

This,  too,  goes  to  establish  the  fact  that  the  plays 
were  popular,  of  which,  indeed,  there  was  never  any 
question ;  or  if  any,  it  was  answered  at  once  when  the 
plays  were  put  on  the  stage,  and  '  all  was  so  pestered 
you  scarce  shall  have  a  roome,'  when  Ben  Jonson's 
Fox  or  Alchemist  scarcely  paid  for  heating  the  hall. 

Oh,  how  the  audience 
Were  ravished  ;  with  what  wonder  went  they  thence, 
When  some  new  day  they  would  not  brook  a  line 
Of  tedious  (though  well-labored)  Cataline  ; 
Sejanus,  too,  was  irksome  ;  they  prized  more 
Honest  lago  or  the  jealous  Moore. 
And  though  the  Fox  and  Subtile  Alchemist, 
Long  intermitted,  could  not  quite  be  mist, 
Yet  these  sometimes  even  at  a  friend's  desire 
Acted,  have  scarce  defraid  the  seacoale  fire 
And  dore-keepers  :  when,  let  but  Falstaffe  come, 
Hall,  Poines,  the  rest,  —  You  scarce  shall  have  a  rooms 
All  is  so  pestered. 
(Leonard  Digges, in  Shakespeare's  'Poems,'  printed  1640.) 

One  of  the  charges  brought  against  Shakespeare  by 
the  academic  critics  of  succeeding  generations  was  lack 
of  taste  in  bringing  comic  scenes  in  juxtaposition  to 


CRITICISM  BY  CONTEMPORARIES  39 

trasric  scenes.  We  find  no  mention  of  this  till  after 
the  Restoration.  One  very  absurd  person  of  the  earlier 
period,  named  William  Cartwright,  charges  him  with 
coarseness  and  vulgarity.  We  are  quite  willing  to  ad- 
mit that/  Shakespeare's  unrefined  people  do  use  very 
unrefined  language,  and  that  sometimes,  especially  in 
his  earlier  plays,  his  gentlemen  make  allusive  remarks 
of  an  unpleasant  character,  though  the  tone  of  the  plays 
is  sound  and  the  view  of  life  they  present  true  and  pure. 
The  versifier  in  question  destroys  any  weight  that  his 
words  might  have  by  asserting  that  Fletcher  was  blame- 
less in  a  quality  where  Shakespeare  was  reprehensible. 
His  verses  run,  or  rather  limp,  as  follows  :  — 

Shakespeare  to-  thee  was  dull,  whose  best  jest  lies 
In  the  Ladies'  questions  and  the  Foole's  replies ; 
Old  fashioned  wit  which  walked  from  town  to  town 
In  turned  hose  which  our  fathers  called  the  clown. 
Whose  wit  our  nice  times  would  obsceanness  call ; 
And  which  made  bawdry  pass  for  comical, 
Nature  was  thy  art,  thy  veine  was  free 
As  his,  but  without  his  scurrillity. 

At  such  stuff  we  glance  and  pass.  The  beginning  of 
another  question  which  agitated  the  critical  world  pro- 
foundly may  be  discerned  in  these  notices  before  the 
Restoration,  and  that  is,  were  Shakespeare's  plays  out- 
side of  the  category  of  great  art  because  he  did  not 
observe  the  unities,  and  did  not  form  himself  on  classi- 
cal models  ?  Just  after  Shakespeare's  death,  and  before 
the  publication  of  the  First  Folio,  Ben  Jonson  visited 
Drummond  of  Hawthornden,  near  Edinburgh.  His  host 
took  some  notes  of  the  conversation,  and  reports  Jonson 
as  saying  of  Shakespeare  that  'he  wanted  art.'  As  Pro- 
fessor Lounsbury  says,  Jonson  must  have  referred  to 
Shakespeare's  disregard  of  the  unities,  for  he  must  have 
been  fully  sensible  of  Shakespeare's  mastery  of  the  art 


40  SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

of  versifying,  to  which  indeed  he  bears  emphatic  testi- 
mony in  his  prefatory  verses.  Shirley,  one  of  the  later 
dramatists,  speaks  of 

Wise  Jonson  at  whose  name  art  did  bow. 
The  writer  of  the  preface  to  the  poems  — 1640  — 
says  that  Shakespeare  was 

The  patterne  of  all  wit, 
Art  without  art  unparalleled  as  yet. 

Milton  said  (1630):  — 

While  to  the  shame  of  slow-endeavoring  art 
Thy  easy  numbers  flow  — 

and  his  lines  — 

Sweetest  Shakespeare,  Fancy's  child, 
Warble  his  native  wood-notes  wild, 

carry  much  the  same  idea,  —  that  the  poet  was  a  natural 
genius,  a  sort  of  lusus  naturce  writing  fine  poetry  with- 
out knowing  what  he  was  doing.  This  notion,  which 
does  violence  to  the  true  conception  of  the  artist,  keeps 
cropping  up  continually  during  the  next  century. 

A  passage  in  the  life  of  Shakespeare,  in  one  of  the 
early  editions  of  the  Encyclopaedia  Britannica,  by  De 
Quincey,  has  contributed  to  establish  the  idea  that  Mil- 
ton rather  looked  down  on  Shakespeare  as  an  unschol- 
arly  person,  and  reproached  Charles  I  in  (^Eikonoklastes) 
for  making  his  plays  his  '  closet  companion.'  Milton's 
language  does  not  justify  such  an  impression.  He  says 
that  a '  tyrant  may  use  pious  and  gentle  language,'  and 
by  inference  that  the  prayers  and  religious  musings 
attributed  to  the  king  are  no  proof  that  he  was 
not  a  tyrant.  To  prove  this  he  will  cite,  he  says,  '  not 
an  abstruse  author,  wherein  the  king  might  be  less  con- 
versant, but  one  whom  we  know  was  the  closet  compan- 
ion of  his  solitude,  William  Shakespeare,  who  intro- 


CRITICISM  BY  CONTEMPORARIES  41 

duces  the  person  of  Richard  III,  speaking  in  as  high  a 
strain  of  piety  and  mortification  as  is  uttered  in  any 
passage  of  this  book'  {Eikon  BasUihe).  Milton  does  not 
reproach  the  king  with  reading  Shakespeare,  but  im- 
plies that  he  may  be  no  more  really  pious  than  Richard 
III.  This  is  no  proof  that  Milton  admired  Shakespeare,  ) 
but  merely  shows  that  he  was  more  or  less  familiar  with 
the  play  of  Richard  III,  which  had  not  been  acted  for 
many  years. 

The  following  may  bear  distantly  on  the  question, 
did  Milton  appreciate  Shakespeare?  Edward  Phillips 
(1630-1676),  the  nephew  whom  Milton  educated  and 
with  whom  he  was  on  terms  of  affectionate  intimacy, 
published  the  Theatrum  Poetarum  the  year  after  his 
uncle's  death  (1675).  In  it  he  gives  short  notes  on  the 
Elizabethan  dramatists: '  Christopher  Marlowe,'  he  says^ 
'  was  a  kind  of  second  Shakespeare,  because  like  him  he 
rose  from  an  actor  to  be  a  maker  of  plays,  though  infer- 
ior both  in  fame  and  merit,  and  because  in  his  begun 
poem  of  Hero  and  Leander  he  seems  to  have  a  resem- 
blance to  that  clean  and  unsophisticated  wit  which  is 
natural  to  that  incomparable  poet.' 

He  holds  Shakespeare  far  superior  to  the  rest. 

William  Shakespeare,  the  glory  of  the  English  stage ; 
whose  nativity  at  Stratford  upon  Avon  is  the  highest  honour 
that  town  can  boast  of ;  from  an  actor  of  tragedies  and 
comedies,  he  became  a  maker ;  and  such  a  maker  that  though 
some  others  may  pretend  to  a  more  exact  decorum  and 
economy,  especially  in  tragedy,  never  any  expressed  a  more 
lofty  and  tragic  height,  never  any  represented  nature  more 
freely  to  the  life  ;  and  when  the  polishments  of  art  are  most 
wanting  he  pleaseth  with  a  certain  wild  and  native  elegance, 
and  in  all  his  writings  hath  an  unvulgar  style,  as  well  in  his 
Venus  and  Adonis,  his  Rape  of  Lucrece,  and  other  various 
poems  as  in  his  dramatics. 


42  SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS   CRITICS 

The  writer  sets  Shakespeare  above  all  his  contem- 
porary playwrights.  In  his  preface  he  says  that  — 

Wit,  ingenuity,  and  learning  in  verse,  even  elegancy  itself, 
though  it  comes  nearest,  are  one  thing ;  true,  native  poetry  is 
another,  —  nay,  though  all  the  laws  of  heroic  poem,  all  the 
laws  of  tragedy,  were  exactly  observed,  yet  still  this  tour 
entregent  —  this  poetic  energy,  if  I  may  so  call  it,  would  be 
required  to  give  life  to  all  the  rest.  .  .  .  Shakespeare,  in  spite 
of  all  his  unfiled  expressions,  his  rambling  and  undigested 
fancies,  the  laughter  of  the  critical,  yet  must  be  confessed  a 
poet  above  many  that  go  beyond  him  in  literature  many 
degrees. 

We  have  no  warrant  in  saying  that  Mr.  Phillips  was 
reflecting  the  judgment  of  his  honored  uncle,  but  it  is 
a  conjecture  as  plausible  as  many  we  find  in  critical 
writings.  The  last  quotation  especially  is  just  about 
what  we  may  suppose  Milton  would  have  said  when  he 
had  finished  Samson  Agonistes  in  exact  accordance 
with  '  the  laws  of  tragedy.' 

The  absence  of  any  reasoned  criticism  of  the  plays 
during  the  first  half  of  the  seventeenth  century  is  less 
remarkable  than  the  fact  that  so  many  writers  ignore 
Shakespeare's  existence  entirely.  We  should  hardly 
expect  Bishop  Hooker  or  Francis  Bacon  to  show  by 
quotation  that  they  were  familiar  with  works  a  line  or 
two  from  which  would  have  illustrated  the  finer  dis- 
tinctions of  their  subjects  and  have  cast  a  deathless 
light  on  their  pages,  or  to  discover  that,  in  their  homely 
English  tongue,  plays,  written  by  an  uneducated  actor, 
were  being  presented  which  were  in  the  same  category 
as  the  Agamemnon  or  the  Prometheus.  One  was  too 
professional,  and  the  other  too  aristocratic.  But  it  does 
seem  remarkable  that  Walter  Raleigh,  a  poet  and  a 
man  of  the  active  world,  sympathizing,  too,  with  all 
popular  interests,  should  show  no  trace  of  familiarity 


CRITICISM  BY  CONTEMPORARIES  43 

with  the  words  or  story  of  plays  he  undoubtedly  wit- 
nessed many  times.  Daniel  and  Warner,  the  heavy 
poets  of  the  day,  do  not  allude  to  their  great  contem- 
porary, though  it  is  stated  that  Shakespeare  was  inti- 
mate with  Drayton.  A  remarkable  example  of  this 
neglect  is  afforded  by  the  poet,  preacher,  scholar.  Dr. 
John  Donne.  He  was  born  in  1573  and  died  in  1631, 
and  consequently  was  at  the  height  of  his  impression- 
able and  enthusiastic  youth  when  Shakespeare's  most 
brilliant  comedies  and  greatest  tragedies  were  first 
acted  or  published.  He  was  a  friend  and  admirer  of 
Ben  Jonson,  a  fine  scholar  and  a  verse-writer  of  some 
remarkable  qualities.  He  took  orders  in  1614,  and  be- 
came a  very  eloquent  and  forcible  preacher.  He  is  pre- 
cisely the  man  we  should  expect  to  be  an  enthusiastic 
admirer  of  the  plays,  —  were  he  living  now  he  would 
be  a  Shakespearean  critic  of  the  first  order,  —  and  yet 
in  his  voluminous  correspondence,  much  of  which  is  on 
literary  topics,  he  never  mentions  the  name  of  the  first 
dramatist  of  his  day.  It  is  evident  that  Shakespeare's 
position  in  the  literary  world  was  entirely  different  from 
what  it  is  now,  and  that,  owing  perhaps  to  the  fact  that 
he  was  not  a  university  man  or  to  the  fact  that  he  was 
an  actor,  he  was  never  received  in  the  literary  world 
the  first  half  of  the  seventeenth  century  on  a  footing 
commensurate  with  his  real  value.  He  was,  as  said  be- 
fore, recognized  as  a  writer  of  very  popular,  amusing, 
and  effective  plays.  How  great  an  achievement  this  is 
was  perhaps  not  understood,  at  all  events  he  was  usually 
spoken  of  as  '  honey-tongued,'  *  mellifluous,'  *  sweet,' 
and  the  like  epithets  which,  though  true  in  a  sense,  are 
so  inadequate  as  to  be  exasperating.  Here  and  there  he 
found  more  intelligent  admirers,  but  his  excellence  was 
so  different  from  that  of  the  classic  authors  that  a  cen- 
tury or  two  was  necessary  before  men  could  adjust  their 


44  SHAKESPEARE   AND   HIS   CRITICS 

ideas  to  a  new  literary  phenomenon.  The  attitude  of 
the  professional  contemporary  world  was  only  the  usual 
attitude  of  professional  literature  towards  the  new, — 
conservatism  compounded  with  non-comprehending  in- 
difference. Wordsworth,  Keats,  and  Shelley  were  re- 
ceived with  even  more  slighting  indifference  by  the 
literary  world  in  what  was  called  a  more  enlightened 
age. 


CHAPTER  III 

FROM  THE  RESTORATION  TO  1710 

Although  the  object  of  this  book  is  to  follow  the  de- 
velopment of  the  criticism  of  Shakespeare  as  a  literary- 
artist,  the  criticism  of  him  as  a  dramatist  is  so  closely 
bound  up  with  purely  aesthetic  appreciation  that  the  two 
cannot  be  separated.  He  was  primarily  a  writer  of  plays 
for  public  presentation,  though  it  would  make  very 
little  difference  in  the  estimation  in  which  he  is  held  at 
present  if  none  of  his  plays  were  shown  on  the  stage. 
But  in  the  latter  part  of  the  seventeenth  century  printed 
copies  were  comparatively  rare,  and  the  favor  of  the 
public  was  given  to  the  plays  because  they  were  seen, 
not  because  they  were  read.  It  was  natural  that  they 
should  be  judged  by  critics  by  technical  rules  drawn 
from  the  practice  of  the  ancients  rather  than  by  their 
own  essential  qualities.  These  rules  were:  first,  a 
properly  constructed  drama  should  observe  the  three 
unities  ;  second,  a  properly  constructed  tragedy  should 
be  elevated  in  tone  and  language,  and  the  hero  should 
pose  as  a  person  of  social  importance  and  never  be 
shown  in  an  undignified  or  ludicrous  position  ;  third,  a 
tragedy  should  be  pure,  that  is,  comic  scenes  should 
never  be  shown  in  the  same  play  with  tragic  ones ; 
fourth,  scenes  of  bloodshed  and  brutal  violence  should 
never  be  exhibited  on  the  stage.  It  is  evident  that 
Shakespeare  violated  these  rules  whenever  they  were 
violated  in  the  fable  he  was  dramatizing.  In  conse- 
quence he  was  accused  of  lacking  in  literary  art,  even 
by  men  who  admitted  that  his  plays  possessed  the  charm 
which  it  is  the  privilege  of  literary  art  alone  to  exert. 


46  SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

The  first  rule,  that  the  unities  must  be  observed,  is 
based  on  the  authority  of  Aristotle.  It  is  not  to  be 
wondered  at  that  Aristotle  was  regarded  with  almost 
superstitious  reverence  in  the  seventeenth  century. 
Those  who  read  his  Poetics  were  introduced  for  the 
first  time  to  literary  criticism  of  the  highest  order.  The 
lofty  view  he  takes  of  the  drama  as  a  noble  and  serious 
form  of  art  could  not  fail  to  make  a  profound  impres- 
sion on  his  readers.  When  they  read  the  Greek  plays 
on  which  his  criticism  is  founded  they  could  not  be 
insensible  to  their  heroic  dignity.  His  traditional  repu- 
tation was  reinforced  by  his  evident  merit.  Naturally, 
his  works  became  a  literary  bible  of  unquestioned 
authority,  and  his  words  were  taken  as  applicable  to 
tragedy  in  the  abstract,  not  merely  to  tragedy  as  de- 
veloped in  Greece  two  thousand  years  ago.  Indeed, 
there  is  so  much  that  is  universally  true  in  his  criticism 
that  it  was  natural  to  take  what  he  says  as  applicable 
to  all  dramatic  construction. 

Speaking  of  the  distinction  between  Epic  narration 
and  Tragedy  he  says,  '  They  differ  in  that  Epic  poetry 
admits  but  one  kind  of  metre  and  is  narrative  in  form. 
They  differ  again  in  the  length  of  the  action,  for  Tra- 
gedy endeavors  as  far  as  possible  to  confine  itself  to  a 
single  revolution  of  the  sun  or  but  slightly  to  exceed 
this  limit.' 

On  this  sentence  is  founded  the  rule  of  '  Unity  of 
time.'  Corneille,  writing  in  1656,  Discours  de  Vutilite 
et  des  parties  du  Poeme  Dramatique^  says  :  — 

These  words  have  given  ground  to  the  famous  discussion 
whether  they  should  be  understood  as  referring  to  a  solar 
day  of  twenty-four  hours  or  to  the  artificial  day  of  twelve ; 
there  are  many  partizans  of  each  opinion.  For  my  part  I  find 
so  many  plots  difficult  to  complete  in  so  short  a  period,  that, 
not  only  should  I  give  them  twenty-four  whole  hours,  but  I 


FROM  THE  RESTORATION  TO  1710         47 

should  avail  myself  of  the  permission  of  the  philosopher  to 
take  a  few  more  and  extend  the  plot  without  scruple  even  to 
thirty. 

There  is  a  maxim  of  law  that  indulgence  may  be  in- 
creased and  restrictions  lessened,  and  I  notice  that  an  author 
is  frequently  hampered  by  this  rule,  which  forced  some  of 
the  ancients  to  take  impossibilities  for  granted.  Euripides  in 
the  Suppliants  makes  Theseus  leave  Athens  with  his  army, 
fight  a  battle  before  the  walls  of  Thebes,  some  twelve  or  fif- 
teen leagues  distant,  and  return  a  victor  in  the  next  act. 
During  the  interval  between  his  departure  and  the  arrival  of 
the  messenger  with  news  of  the  victory,  ^thra  and  the  cho- 
rus declaim  thirty-six  verses.  Certainly  he  employed  the  time 
well.  Again,  ^schylus  makes  Agamemnon  return  from  Troy 
still  more  rapidly.  He  had  arranged  with  his  wife,  Clytem- 
nestra,  that  as  soon  as  the  city  was  captured  he  would  let  her 
know  by  beacon-fires  on  the  mountain  tops,  of  which  the  sec- 
ond should  be  lighted  as  soon  as  the  flare  of  the  first  was 
seen  and  so  on  from  mountain  to  mountain,  so  that  she 
should  learn  the  news  before  morning.  But  as  soon  as  she  has 
learned  by  the  last  bonfire  that  Troy  has  fallen,  Agamemnon 
appears.  His  ship,  though  battered  by  a  tempest,  came  as 
quickly  as  the  light  could  travel  from  one  bonfire  to  an- 
other. 

Many  critics  have  argued  against  this  rule  and  called  it 
arbitrary,  and  they  would  be  right  were  it  not  based  on  the 
authority  of  Aristotle.  But  they  ought  to  bow  to  it  for  a  very 
natural  reason.  A  dramatique  poem  is  an  imitation,  or  rather 
a  picture,  of  human  action,  and  certainly  portraits  are  the 
better  the  more  closely  they  resemble  their  originals.  The 
representation  lasts  two  hours,  and  would  exactly  represent 
the  action  if  that  also  covered  not  more  than  two  hours. 
We  should  then  not  limit  ourselves  to  an  action  of  not 
more  than  twenty-four  hours  or  not  more  than  twelve  in 
duration,  but  to  one  as  short  as  possible  that  it  may  be  an 
exact  picture. 

The  language  of  the  great  French  tragedian  shows 


48  SHAKESPEARE   AND   HIS   CRITICS 

the  almost  superstitious  regard  paid  to  th6  Greek  critic 
in  France.  Englishmen  were  by  nature  more  independ- 
ent of  authority,  and  disposed  to  defend  their  national 
playwright,  whose  dramas  they  witnessed  with  never- 
failing  pleasure,  but  the  scholarly  critics  among  them 
were  apt  to  think  that  the  ancients  had  set  models  of 
excellence  which  it  was  almost  impious  to  decry.  A 
modification  of  the  rule  which  seems  more  reasonable 
was  that  the  time,  even  if  over  twenty-four  hours,  should 
be  all  accounted  for;  there  should  be  no  gaps  in  which 
the  hero,  like  Hamlet,  was  brooding  in  quiescence,  or  a 
cause  was  slowly  gathering  strength  before  its  effect 
appeared  in  a  deed,  or  a  character  was  developing  or 
deteriorating,  like  Macbeth's.  But  it  is  evident  that, 
however  the  rule  be  modified  or  interpreted,  Shake- 
speare paid  no  attention  to  it.  The  time  supposed  to 
elapse  from  the  first  to  the  last  scene  in  his  tragedies 
is  long  enough  for  the  action  to  develop,  whether  a 
week  or  three  months  is  necessary. 

From  the  rule  for  few  hours,  or  consecutive  hours, 
whichever  be  taken,  the  rule  for  unity  of  place  was  de- 
duced. If  the  scenes  represented  are  in  distant  coun- 
tries, and  some  of  the  actors,  as  is  evidently  necessary, 
appear  in  both  places,  a  longer  time  than  one  day  would 
be  required  to  transport  them  from  place  to  place. 
This  requires  that  the  scene  be  restricted  to  a  city  and 
the  neighboring  country,  or  to  a  palace  and  the  adja- 
cent garden.  Shakespeare  rarely  observes  this  rule, 
even  in  his  comedies,  but  transports  Rosalind  and  her 
cousin  and  Touchstone  to  the  forest  of  Arden,  a  jour- 
ney at  least  long  enough  to  weary  them.  Lear  is  car- 
ried from  Leicester  to  Dover,  Othello  and  Desdemona 
sail  from  Venice  to  Cyprus,  between  two  acts.  In  none 
of  these  can  it  be  said  that  the  violation  of  the  unities 
of  time  and  place  detracts  in  the  least  from  the  interest 


FROM   THE  RESTORATION   TO   1710         49 

or  the  artistic  propriety  of  the  drama.  ^  Nevertheless, 
it  was  made  the  ground  of  adverse  criticism  of  the 
plays  during  the  eighteenth  century,  and  only  feebly 
defended  by  men  like  Samuel  Johnson  and  Pope  on 
the  ground  that  Shakespeare  was  ignorant  of  the  rules 
and  must  therefore  be  excused.  None  went  so  far  as  to 
inquire  what  a  tragic  story  proper  for  representation 
really  is,  or  to  note  that  only  when,  as  in  Greece,  the 
audience  was  thoroughly  familiar  with  the  story  and 
the  characters,  the  representation  of  the  catastropbe, 
taking  place  as  it  does  on  the  long-expected  day,  may 
be  sufficient  material  for  a  play.  But  great  tragic  situ- 
ations are  results  from  slow-gathering  causes,  and  if 
the  audience  are  not  familiar  with  the  antecedents  it 
is  necessary  to  make  them  so,  and  this  can  be  effectu- 
ally done  only  by  representation.  If  narration  is  used, 
except  very  sparingly,  the  interest  drops,  for  the  essence 
of  a  drama  is  action.  Therefore,  the  representation 
must  assume  time  enough  for  the  story  to  develop.  The 
Greek  tragedy  is  exceptional  and  can  furnish  no  gen- 
eral rule,  because  the  audience  knew  all  about  the 
Atridae  and  the  princes  of  Thebes  beforehand,  and 
needed  only  a  few  poetical  allusions  to  lead  up  to  the 
catastrophe.  Again  the  lyric  element  as  represented  by 
the  chorus  is  as  important  as  the  dialogue.  It  is  there- 
fore impossible  to  apply  the  rules  of  the  classic  drama 
to  the  English  drama,  except  in  the  most  general  way. 
But  it  was  necessary  that  a  century  or  so  should  elapse 
before  critics  would  admit  this  common-sense  conclu- 
sion. 

The  third  rule,  the  unity  of  action,  is  of  a  different 

1  The  unities  of  time  and  place  apply  to  a  tragedy,  since  it 
is  tragedy  that  Aristotle  is  discussing.  In  a  comedy  when  the 
plot  is  an  intrigue  the  time  is  usually  short  enough  to  satisfy  the 
most  exacting  advocate  of  the  rules. 


50  SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

character  and  does  not  apply  to  mechanical  form,  but 
to  the  construction  of  the  plot  or  story.  This  is,  of 
course,  a  matter  of  infinitely  more  consequence,  and 
involves  artistic  considerations.  A  building  need  not  be 
restricted  to  a  particular  height  or  length,  but  its  parts 
must  harmonize  and  effect  a  unified  impression.  The 
words  of  Aristotle  on  this  subject  are  :  — 

Now,  according  to  our  definition,  Tragedy  is  an  imitation  ^ 
of  an  action  that  is  complete  and  whole  and  of  a  certain  mag- 
nitude ;  for  there  may  be  a  whole  that  is  wanting  in  magni- 
tude. A  whole  is  that  which  has  a  beginning,  a  middle,  and 
an  end.  A  beginning  is  that  which  does  not  itself  follow  any- 
thing by  causal  necessity,  but  after  which  something  naturally 
is  or  comes  to  be.  An  end,  on  the  contrary,  is  that  which 
itself  naturally  follows  some  other  thing,  either  by  necessity 
or  as  a  rule,  but  has  nothing  following  it.  A  middle  is  that 
which  follows  something  as  some  other  thing  follows  it.  A 
well-constructed  plot  must  therefore  neither  begin  nor  end  at 
haphazard,  but  must  conform  to  these  principles. 

That  is  as  true  as  it  is  elemental.  The  action  of  a 
tragedy  is  a  series  of  concatenated  events  leading  up  to 
a  catastrophe.  Those  events  are  linked  together,  partly 
by  chance,  but  for  the  most  part  they  are  caused  in  the 
Shakespearean  tragedy  by  the  characters.  The  original 
situation,  or  the  beginning,  is  not  caused  by  any  of  these 
linked  events,  and,  after  the  catastrophe,  the  series  of 
events  is  terminated  for  the  purposes  of  the  poet,  though 
the  end  or  catastrophe  may  be  the  cause  of  a  new  series 
of  events  with  which  the  spectators  have  nothing  to 
do.  Lear  and  his  daughters  are  dead ;  no  more  harm 
or  blessing  can  come  from  them,  and  that  Kent,^  and 

^  The  word  translated  imitation  seems  to  mean  concrete,  artistic 
embodiment,  and  is  applied  to  painting,  tragedy,  and  epic  poetry. 
It  evidently  does  not  carry  the  idea  of  photographic  realism. 

''  It  is  not  certain  that.  Kent  can  endure  to  survive  his  loved 
master. 


FROM  THE   RESTORATION   TO  1710         61 

Edgar,  and  Albany  will  restore  the  civil  and  moral 
order  is  no  part  of  the  tragedy  of  Lear,  Every  work 
of  art  must  make  a  unified  impression,  —  a  powerful 
impression  if  the  work  be  great  art ;  and  in  a  tragedy  the 
character-group  must  be  a  unit  and ,  the  myth  or  story 
a  unit,  for  a  play  cannot  be  made  up  of  alternate  acts  of 
Macbeth  and  Hamlet^  to  take  an  extreme  example. 
Shakespeare  always  attains  unity  in  the  true  sense, 
except  perhaps  in  Troilus  and  Cressida^  when  the 
death  of  Hector  is  not  dramatically  connected  with  the 
perfidy  of  Cressida.  This  rule  of  unity  of  plot  was  taken 
to  forbid  the  introduction  of  sub-plots  or  episodes,  as 
in  the  Merchant  of  Venice  and  Lear.  Aristotle  says : 
*0f  all  plots  and  actions  the  episodes  are  the  worst.  I 
call  a  plot  episodic,  in  which  the  episodes  or  acts  suc- 
ceed one  another  without  probable  or  necessary  se- 
quence.' A  plot  in  which  the  characters  are  divided  into 
two  groups,  and  there  is  a  culmination  of  the  action  in 
each  group,  though  the  individuals  of  each  group  freely 
mix  and  influence  the  acts  of  the  other,  as  Shylock  binds 
the  casket  story  to  the  story  of  the  Merchant  of  Venice, 
would  not  be  one  in  which  'the  episodes  or  acts  succeed 
one  another  without  probable  or  necessary  sequence.' 
No  play  constructed  with  skillfully  interwoven  plots, 
in  which  the  interest  in  the  secondary  story  was  care- 
fully subordinated  to  the  main  story,  existed  in  Greece. 
But  the  critics  did  not  notice  that  much  of  what  Aris- 
totle said  is  applicable  to  Greek  plays  alone,  though 
the  rest  is  applicable  to  all  dramatic  art.  In  the 
twelfth  section  he  enumerates  the  separate  parts  into 
which  Tragedy  is  divided,  namely :  '  Prologue,  Epi- 
sode, Exodus,  Choric  Song  ;  this  last  being  divided 
into  Parodos  and  Stasimon.  These  are  common  to  all 
plays,  peculiar  to  some  are  the  songs  of  the  actors  from 
the  stage  and  the  Commos.* 


62  SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

He  says :  — 

The  Prologue  is  that  entire  part  of  a  tragedy  which  pre- 
cedes the  Parodos  of  the  Chorus.  The  episode  is  that  part  of 
a  tragedy  which  has  no  choric  song  after  it.  Of  the  Choric 
part,  the  Parodos  is  the  first  undivided  utterance  of  the 
Chorus.  The  Stasimon  is  a  choric  ode  without  anapests  or 
trochees  ;  the  Commos  is  a  joint  lamentation  of  Chorus  and 
actors. 

The  mention  of  the  Chorus  as  on  an  equality  with  the 
actors  might  have  warned  the  critics  of  the  seventeenth 
and  eighteenth  centuries  that  the  Greek  philosopher 
was  commenting  on  a  different  art-form  from  the  tra- 
gedies they  were  in  the  habit  of  witnessing.  But  few  of 
them  insisted  on  this.  If  he  was  talking  about  a  differ- 
ent tragedy,  that  at  least  was  the  true  and  real  tragedy, 
and,  so  far  as  men  varied  from  the  norm,  so  far  they 
were  wrong.  There  were  so  many  maxims  in  his  treat- 
ise of  universal  validity  that  all  must  be  true.  The 
Greek  said  also,  '  Whether  Tragedy  has  as  yet  per- 
fected its  proper  types  or  not,  and  whether  it  is  to 
be  judged  in  itself  abstractly  or  in  relation  also  to 
the  audience,  —  this  raises  another  question.'  This  also 
they  overlooked,  for  the  idea  that  a  professional  play- 
wright of  their  grandfather's  day  had  perfected  an- 
other '  proper  type '  would  have  seemed  as  preposterous 
as  the  assurance  that  somebody  had  written  a  new 
Bible.  They  had  not  yet  learned  from  Mr.  Kipling 
that  — 

There  are  three  and  thirty  ways 
Of  constructing  tribal  lays, 
And-every-one-of-them-is-right. 

Shakespeare  must  have  heard  the  rules  discussed  ; 
for  he  was  a  playwright  in  the  active  practice  of  his 
profession,  and  intimate  with  Ben  Jonson  and  others  of 


FROM  THE  RESTORATION  TO  1710        53 

the  classical  school  who  regarded  Seneca  as  an  authority 
on  construction.  A  comedy  can  more  easily  be  made  to 
conform  to  the  rules  than  a  tragedy,  for  the  action  is 
largely  determined  by  whim  or  chance,  rather  than  by 
fate  or  passion.  The  writer  can  make  things  happen  as 
rapidly  as  he  likes,  for  they  are  arbitrary  happenings 
not  dependent  on  slow  incubation  in  the  human  will. 
In  a  comedy  men  and  women  are  willful,  but  they  are 
puppets  in  the  hands  of  their  designer ;  in  a  tragedy 
they  are  motive-driven,  and  assume  mastery  over  their 
creator.  Lovers  Labour  's  Lost  is  a  comedy,  but  it 
observes  the  unity  of  time  and  place  well  enough.  The 
place  is  either  a  '  park  with  a  palace  in  it,'  or  '  another 
part  of  the  same,'  with  '  a  Pavilion  and  tents  at  a  dis- 
tance.' The  scenes  succeed  one  another  with  no  sug- 
gestion of  an  interval,  and  may  readily  be  supposed  to 
have  occupied  the  hours  of  one  long  day.  The  pageant 
of  the  nine  worthies  is  presented  in  the  *  posterior  of 
the  day.'  After  it  is  over  the  young  King  of  Navarre 
says  to  the  Princess  of  France :  — 

Now  at  this  latest  minute  of  the  hour, 
Grant  us  your  loves. 

To  which  she  replies  very  properly :  — 

A  time,  methinks,  too  short 
To  make  a  world-without-end  bargain  in. 

This  is  a  comedy.  There  is  no  reason  to  wait  for  the 
slow  growth  of  a  purpose  in  a  weakened  will  or  the 
gathering  together  of  causes  before  they  can  effect 
the  final  catastrophe.  The  motive  force  is  whim ;  the 
counterforce,  the  natural  attraction  between  young 
people.  The  story  has  little  to  do  with  the  ongoing 
of  time.  One  of  the  last  plays  of  Shakespeare,  Tlie 
Tempest^  also  observes  the  unity  of  time  and  place,  but 
this  is  so  distinctly  a  work  of  the  imagination  that  it 


54  SHAKESPEARE  AND   HIS   CRITICS 

is  independent  of  time  and  place.  A  magician  is  man- 
aging the  action,  and  if  we  admit  that  he  can  wreck  a 
ship  and  save  the  passengers  and  put  the  crew  to  sleep 
and  repair  the  vessel  and  hang  music  in  the  air  in  the 
course  of  a  few  hours,  why  not  allow  that  a  sincere  love 
can  bud  and  blossom  in  the  hearts  of  Ferdinand  and 
Miranda  as  rapidly  as  the  other  marvels?  But  in  the 
Winter  s  Tale,  written  about  the  same  time,  Shake- 
speare disregards  the  unities  entirely,  closes  the  stage  in 
Sicily  at  the  end  of  the  third  act,  and  opens  the  fourth  act, 
with  '  Time  *  as  Chorus,  in  Bohemia  fourteen  years  later. 
This  is  a  romance,  for  which  hard-and-fast  rules  would  be 
an  unsupportable  tyranny.  But  in  Shakespeare's  serious 
tragedies — his  historical  plays  do  not  enter  into  the 
question  —  time  plays  an  important  part.  After  Ham- 
let receives  the  message  from  his  father's  spirit,  lie 
spends  two  months  in  inaction,  brooding  over  his  shame. 
After  the  banquet  scene,  Macduff  journeys  to  London 
and  back  to  Dunsinane.  The  time  required  for  this  and 
in  consulting  with  Siward  and  Malcolm  could  not  have 
been  less  than  three  months.  In  fact,  whenever  time  is 
required  for  the  maturing  of  a  plan  or  the  consolidating 
of  motives  into  an  act,  time  is  taken  without  any  regard 
to  the  artificial  unities  of  time  and  place.  But  event 
follows  event,  and  all  move  logically  to  a  predetermined 
end.  Unity  of  action  in  the  true  sense  is  always  ob- 
served. Every  scene  has  its  place  in  the  main  develop- 
ment. But  the  disregard  of  time  and  place  constitute 
one  of  the  counts  of  the  indictment  of  Shakespeare  by 
critics  of  the  classical  school.  It  is  difficult  for  us 
to  understand  how  such  trivial  and  formal  objections 
could  be  made  by  intelligent  persons. 

The  second  objection  urged  against  the  plays  by  the 
critics  of  the  same  order  was  bringing  comic  scenes 
into  tragedies.  Aristotle  carries  the  idea  that  a  comedy 


FROM  THE  RESTORATION  TO  1710         65 

is  a  comedy,  and  a  tragedy  a  tragedy,  and  that  it  is  bad 
art  to  combine  the  kinds,  though  he  nowhere  directly 
says  so.  A  playwright  in  his  time  was  either  a  tra- 
gedian or  a  comedian  —  never  both.  The  object  of  a 
tragedy,  he  says,  is  'to  purify  the  mind  of  the  onlooker 
by  sympathy  and  alarmed  excitement.'  It  must  not 
'present  the  spectacle  of  a  virtuous  man  brought  from 
prosperity  to  adversity,'  but  that  of  a  'man  who  is 
not  eminently  good  and  just  yet  whose  misfortune  is 
brought  about  not  by  vice  or  depravity,  but  by  some 
error  or  frailty.'  The  first  would  strike  us  as  unjust, 
and  would  arouse  anger  rather  than  sympathy.  There 
is  no  hint  that  the  effect  may  or  may  not  be  heightened 
by  the  contrast  of  tragic  scenes  with  comic  scenes,  but 
tragedy,  he  says,  is  'something  serious  and  dignified,' 
hence  it  was  assumed  by  the  eighteenth-century  critics 
that  to  combine  or  contrast  the  two  was  bad  art. 

Again,  the  hero  in  the  tragedy  must  not  only  be  a 
good  man,  but  he  must  be  a  man  of  social  importance. 
Aristotle  says,  'Tragedies  are  founded  on  the  story  of 
a  few  houses  —  on  the  fortunes  of  Alcmaeon,  CEdipus, 
Orestes,  Meleager,  Thyestes,  Telepheus,  and  those  others 
who  have  done  or  suffered  something  terrible.'  'Tra- 
gedy is  an  imitation  [artistic  presentation]  of  persons 
who  are  above  the  common  level.'  The  bearing  and 
language  of  these  persons  is  always  heroic  and  dig- 
nified. They  are  contending  against  fate  ;  in  the  back- 
ground looms  the  family  curse.  Shakespeare  was  greatly 
censured,  even  by  those  who  could  not  deny  the  attrac- 
tion of  his  plays,  for  making  his  kings  sometimes  act 
and  talk  like  ordinary  people.  They  thought  that  this 
was  not  only  bad  art,  it  was  striking  at  the  sacred 
foundation  of  society,  —  respect  for  rulers.  To  repre- 
sent Claudius  as  indulging  in  a  drunken  revel,  or 
Henry  V  as  talking  familiarly  with  his  soldiers,  even 


56  SHAKESPEARE  AND   HIS   CRITICS 

when  disguised,  was  held  to  be  a  shocking  impropriety. 
Kings,  our  ancestors  thought,  were  always  on  dress- 
parade  ;  at  least  they  should  always  be  shown  so  on 
the  stage,  otherwise  their  awful  majesty  would  be  less- 
ened. These  three  views  were  held  quite  generally  in 
the  eighteenth  century,  and  the  statement  of  them  is 
necessary  to  explain  the  tone  of  Shakespearean  criti- 
cism when  it  began  to  take  definite  form. 

Much  of  this  slavish  respect  for  the  rules  and  for 
dignity  of  character  and  treatment  was  due  to  the 
French,  and  Englishmen  were  always  found  to  resent  it. 
The  French  had  developed  their  own  tragedy  largely 
on  the  pattern  of  Seneca,  whose  pompous  and  tiresome 
plays  had  the  seal  of  classicism.  The  hero  and  heroine 
make  long  harangues  called  '  tirades.'  They  are  usually 
characters  from  Grecian  or  Roman  history.  The  dia- 
logue is  dignified  and  correct,  and  is  in  rhyme.  Some 
of  the  French  heroic  tragedies  are  exceedingly  beau- 
tiful, but  not  beautiful  in  a  way  we  should  call  dra- 
matic. They  usually  observe  the  unities  carefully.  We 
cannot  well  say  that  the  Cid  is  more  or  less  beautiful 
than  Hamlet^  they  are  so  entirely  different  in  art  con- 
ception. One  is  Gothic,  the  other  Latin.  They  are  ex- 
pressions of  different  races.  But  to  a  certain  school  of 
eighteenth-century  critics  the  French  tragedy  was  what 
a  tragedy  ought  to  be,  and  the  English  tragedy  was 
'  irregular.'  The  perennial  attraction  of  the  Shake- 
spearean plays  was  accounted  for  on  the  hypothesis 
that  they  contained  some  fine  passages,  —  that  the 
author  was  a  crazy  creature  but  inspirisd.  There  is 
an  element  of  real  beauty  in  the  French  neo-classic 
drama  which  appealed  strongly  to  the  eighteenth-cen- 
tury mind,  even  in  England.  There  is  dignity,  for- 
mality, scholarship,  and  regularity.  The  general  con- 
ception of  life  and  of  dramatic  interest  is  different 


FROM  THE  RESTORATION  TO  1710         57 

from  that  held  by  the  Elizabethans.  The  characters 
represent  man  as  a  member  of  a  highly  artificial  soci- 
ety.  Mr.  Taine  says :  — 

If  Racine  or  Corneille  had  framed  a  psychology,  they 
would  have  said  with  Descartes  :  *  Man  is  an  incorporeal 
soul,  served  by  organs,  endowed  with  reason  and  will,  living 
in  palaces  or  porticos,  made  for  conversation  and  society, 
whose  harmonious  and  ideal  action  is  developed  by  dis- 
courses and  replies,  in  a  world  constructed  by  logic  beyond 
the  realms  of  time  and  space. 

If  Shakespeare  had  framed  a  psychology,  he  would  have 
said  with  Esquirol :  ^  '  Man  is  a  nervous  machine,  governed 
by  a  mood,  transported  by  unbridled  passions,  essentially 
unreasoning,  a  mixture  of  animal  and  poet,  having  no  rap- 
ture but  mind,  no  sensibility  but  virtue,  imagination  for 
prompter  and  guide,  and  led  at  random,  by  the  most  deter- 
minate and  complex  circumstances,  to  pain,  crime,  madness, 
and  death. 

While  this  is  a  very  incomplete  apergu  of  the  Shake- 
spearean conception  of  life,  it  serves  to  emphasize  the 
radical  distinction  between  the  French  and  the  Eliza- 
bethan tragedy.  To  Us  it  snggests  that  the  French 
tragic  hero,  governed  by  '  noblesse  oblige  *  and  talking 
in  the '  high  Roman  fashion,'  is  tiresome,  while  the  emo- 
tional hero  of  Shakespeare  appeals  to  human  sym- 
pathy, and  is,  in  consequence,  interesting.  But  in  Eng- 
land after  the  Restoration  the  French  method  came  into 
favor  with  the  educated  class.  ^  The  new  king,  Charles 
II,  was  half  French  by  blood  and  more  than  half 
French  by  education.  His  favorites  were  Frenchwomen 
and  Frenchmen,  and  so  the  court  gave  its  powerful  sup- 

^  A  celebrated  French  alienist. 

2  Nevertheless  we  who  remember  Rachel  in  Phedre  must  believe 
that  there  is  something  great  and  elemental  in  Racine,  not  touch- 
ing human  sympathy  like  Hamlet  and  Othello,  but  alarming  and 
frightful. 


58  SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS   CRITICS 

port  to  French  fashions  and  French  art.  In  1660  the 
regular  theatres  were  opened,  and  Elizabethan  plays 
were  at  first  acted  because  there  were  no  others.  Then 
Dryden  wrote  plays  for  which  the  French  tragedy  was 
a  model.  He  and  another  playwright  even  rewrote  some 
of  Shakespeare's  plays,  for  there  was  none  of  the  rever- 
ence for  the  original  form  that  controls  us  now.  In 
about  fifteen  years  a  new  school  of  playwrights  came 
into  existence:  Congreve,  Farquhar,  Vanbrugh,  Wych- 
erley,  introducing  the  society  play  of  gallantry  and 
wit.  Shakespeare  always  held  his  own  on  the  stage, 
partly  owing  to  the  presence  of  a  very  fine  actor,  Better- 
ton,  to  whose  enthusiasm  we  owe  the  preservation  of 
most  of  the  traditions  and  the  meagre  information  con- 
cerning the  poet's  career  that  we  possess.  It  was,  how- 
ever, not  till  1709  that  a  definite  edition  of  the  plays 
(Rowe's)  appeared.  Till  then  men  had  to  depend  on 
the  few  folio  volumes  in  existence,  with  here  and  there 
some  quartos  either  single  or  bound  in  a  volume  of  haK 
a  dozen  plays,  some  of  which  might  have  been  Shake- 
speare's and  some  the  work  of  other  Elizabethan  play- 
wrights. Then  began  the  long  fight  over  the  text,  which 
occupied  the  attention  of  Pope,  Theobald,  Steevens, 
Capell,  Johnson,  and  Malone  during  the  eighteenth 
century. 

Dryden  was  too  good  a  poet  and  too  able  a  man  and 
too  skilled  a  craftsman  not  to  appreciate  Shakespeare. 
At  the  same  time  he  was  under  the  domination  of  the 
superstitions  of  the  scholar.  In  his  own  plays,  begun 
with  the  Wild  Gallant,  1662,  and  running  through 
twenty  years  with  the  production  of  some  twenty-seven 
plays,  he  adhered  to  the  heroic  model  of  the  French 
drama,  as  is  shown  by  the  titles  All  for  Love  (the 
Cleopatra  story),  Conquest  of  Granada,  etc.  For  some 
time  he  carried  out  the  idea  that  plays  should  be  written 


FROM   THE   RESTORATION   TO   1710         59 

in  the  rhyming  couplet,  largely  becanse  such  was  the 
French  practice.  It  is  evident  that  this  must  result  in 
a  very  different  play  from  those  of  his  great  predecessor, 
who  uses,  first  the  familiar  prose  of  everyday  life, 
second,  a  lofty  and  measured  prose,  and  third,  blank 
verse,  all  of  these  being  modified  for  the  occasion  and 
speaker,  each  adapted  to  higher  and  lower  emotional 
expression,  and  the  combination  of  the  three  giving  an 
instrument  of  great  scope  and  flexibility.  But  though 
Dryden's  dramatic  ideal  was  so  different  from  that  of 
the  Elizabethans,  and  though  there  was  among  literary 
men  and  critics  a  general  opinion  that  the  French  trage- 
dies were  'right  tragedies,'  and  a  disposition  to  say  of 
Othello  and  Hamlet^  '  They  are  striking,  but  are  they 
art  ?  '  Dryden  left  on  record  one  of  the  finest  apprecia- 
tions of  Shakespeare.  Dryden's  plays  were  published 
from  time  to  time,  and  most  of  his  criticism  is  contained 
in  the  prefaces.  The  Essay  of  Dramatic  Poesy  was 
published  separately  in  1668,  and  is  based  to  a  certain 
extent  on  the  treatises  of  Corneille.  It  was  the  third  in 
a  series  of  documents  written  by  Dryden  and  his 
brother-in-law.  Sir  Robert  Howard,  also  a  playwright. 
It  is  cast  in  the  form  of  a  dialogue  in  which  Crites  re- 
presents Howard  ;  Neander,  Dryden  ;  Eugenius,  Lord 
Buckhurst,  who  maintains  that  the  French  tragedies  are 
more  regular  and  therefore  of  a  higher  type  than  the 
English,  and  Lisideius,  Sir  Charles  Sedley.  It  is  a  dis- 
cussion in  the  form  of  a  dialogue,  and  Mr.  Lowell  calls 
it  '  by  far  ^  the  most  delightful  reproduction  of  the 
classic  dialogue  ever  written  in  English.'  We  are  at 
least  in  the  company  of  four  of  the  most  cultured  men 
of  the  time.  Dryden's  other  deliverances  on  the  subject 
of  dramatic  criticism  are  the  Defense  of  an  Essay  of 

^  Is   *  by  far '  quite  fair  to  Landor,  to  say  nothing  of  Macau- 
lay's  Cowley  and  Milton  f 


60  SHAKESPEARE   AND   HIS   CRITICS 

Dramatic  Poesy^  Heroic  Plays^  An  Apology  for  He- 
roic Poetin)  and  Poetic  License^  the  Grounds  of  Criti- 
cism in  Tragedy,  and  the  short  'Epistle  dedicatory' 
to  the  Rival  Ladies.  It  is  in  the  Essay  and  the  De- 
fense that  Dryden  shows  himself  a  great  critic,  and  his 
language  about  Shakespeare  is  that  of  one  who  feels 
and  comprehends  the  poet's  supremacy,  though  ham- 
pered in  his  judgment  by  the  conventional  regard  for 
the  'ancients.'  He  reminds  us  of  a  judge  of  strong 
English  common  sense  and  regard  for  equity,  forced  to 
decide  one  of  those  cases  where  the  old  law  manifestly 
works  absurd  injustice,  and  allowing  his  sense  of  right 
to  rule  him  though  he  cannot  quite  discard  his  reverence 
for  precedent.  Thus  Dryden  says  :  — 

To  begin  with  Shakespeare.  He  was  the  man  who  of  all 
modern,  and  perhaps  ancient  poets,  had  the  largest  and  most 
comprehensive  soul.  All  the  images  of  nature  were  still  pre- 
sent to  him  and  he  drew  them  not  laboriously,  but  luckily : 
when  he  describes  anything  you  more  than  see  it,  you  feel  it 
too.  Those  who  accuse  him  to  have  wanted  learning  give  him 
the  greater  commendation :  he  was  naturally  learned ;  he 
needed  not  the  spectacles  of  books  to  read  nature ;  he  looked 
inwards  and  found  her  there.  I  cannot  say  he  is  everywhere 
alike  ;  were  he  so  I  should  do  him  injury  to  compare  him  with 
the  greatest  of  mankind.  He  is  many  times  flat,  insipid ;  his 
comic  wit  degenerating  into  clenches,^  his  serious  swelling 
into  bombast.  But  he  is  always  great  when  some  great  occa- 
sion is  presented  to  him ;  no  man  can  say  he  ever  had  a  fit  sub- 
ject for  his  wit  and  did  not  then  raise  himself  as  high  above 
the  rest  of  poets. 

But  he  had  written  just  before  :  '  It  will  be  first  ne- 
cessary to  speak  somewhat  of  Shakespeare  and  Fletcher 

1  *  Clenches  '  are  quibbles  or  cheap  puns.  But  where  does  Mr. 
Dryden  find  <  bombast '  except  in  the  mouth  of  bombastic  characters 
and  properly  placed  ? 


FROM   THE   RESTORATION   TO  1710         61 

his  [Ben  Jonson  's]  rivals  in  poesy,  and  one  of  them, 
in  my  opinion,  at  least  his  equal,  perhaps  his  superior.' 

One  would  imagine  that  if  Shakespeare  had  the 
'largest  and  most  comprehensive  soul  of  all  modern 
poets,'  which  greatness  of  soul  was  evidenced  by  his 
writings  alone,  it  would  be  contradictory  to  speak  of  him 
as  Jonson's,  equal '  perhaps  his  superior.'  But  the  appre- 
ciation is  a  fine  one,  and  the  only  evidence  of  Dryden's 
belief  in  the  heresy  of  the  day  is,  *he  drew  them,'  — 
his  representations  of  nature,  — '  not  laboriously  but 
luckily^  as  if  here  were  an  exceptional  person  taught 
to  write  above  a  mental  pitch  by  some  '  affable,  famil- 
iar ghost  that  mighty  gulls  him  with  intelligence '  —  the 
old  and  long-to-survive  notion  of  the  '  inspired  savage,' 
a  phrase  sometimes  applicable  to  mathematicians,  but 
never  to  dramatists,  who  of  all  others  must  learn  by 
labor  and  never  '  forget  the  adjoining  world.'  Dryden 
elsewhere  calls  the  Elizabethans  *the  great  race  before 
the  flood,'  and  says  of  Shakespeare,  *  In  his  magic 
circle  none  dared  tread  but  he,'  the  last  an  admirable 
phrase,  but  still  implying  something  more  than  mortal 
power.  It  took  another  century  to  discover  that  Shake- 
speare 's  preeminence  depended  on  the  possession  of  the 
literary  artistic  power  in  a  very  high  degj-ee,  the  exer- 
cise of  it  in  a  language  not  yet  hampered,  except  among 
the  scholars,  by  conventional  phrases,  the  possession  of 
a  very  wide,  unconscious  human  sympathy,  and  the 
necessity  of  writing  for  the  general  public  and  not  for 
the  literary  coterie.  The  effect  of  this  last  condition 
might  be  questioned,  for  his  sonnets  show  him  as  much 
of  a  poet  as  do  his  tragedies,  but  at  all  events  it  gave 
us  Falstaff  and  Silence. 

Dryden,  it  will  be  observed,  was  a  little  in  advance 
of  his  time.  He  refuses  to  yield  to  the  French  regard 
for  the  unities,  and  stands  up  manfully  for  his  own 


62  SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS   CRITICS 

country.  He  speaks  in  the  person  of  '  Neander,'  —  new 
man,  —  and  gives  the  role  of  the  conservatives  to  Crites, 
Sir  Robert  Howard,  his  brother-in-law,  and  Lisideius, 
Sir  Charles  Sedley.  The  position  that  English  plays  are 
a  serious  and  worthy  form  of  art  is  admitted,  and  that 
in  itself  argues  a  great  advance  in  criticism  ;  for  the 
interlocutors  are  representative  scholars  of  the  class 
who  sixty  years  earlier  would  have  scouted  the  idea  that 
the  moderns  were  equal  to  the  ancients.  Eugenius  says, 
'  There  is  no  man  more  ready  to  adore  those  great 
Greeks  and  Romans  than  I  am,  but  on  the  other  side  I 
cannot  think  so  contemptibly  of  the  age  in  which  I  live, 
or  so  dishonorably  of  my  own  country  as  not  to  judge 
we  equal  the  ancients  in  most  kinds  of  poesy  and  in 
some  surpass  them.' 

Lisideius  says  that  '  he  conceived  a  play  ought  to  be 
a  just  and  lively  image  of  human  nature,  representing 
its  passions  and  humqrs  and  the  changes  of  fortune  to 
which  it  is  subject,  for  the  delight  and  instruction  of 
mankind,'  a  definition  with  which  no  one  can  find  fault, 
and  free  from  the  absurd  requirement  that  a  play 
written  in  the  year  1700  should  conform  in  certain  de- 
tails of  construction  to  those  written  two  thousand  years 
earlier.  The  phrase  *  a  just  and  lively  image  of  human 
nature '  would  preclude  all  artificial  requirements,  but 
is  itself  the  basis  of  the  rule  *  follow  nature,'  of  which 
we  hear  so  much  during  the  next  century.  In  fact,  to 
decide  what  is  an  '  image '  is  the  prime  question  of 
gBsthetics,  and  to  decide  what  is  '  human  nature  '  is  the 
prime  question  of  philosophy.  Dryden's  definition,  like 
all  definitions,  opens  the  field  for  more  discussion.  But 
the  principle  is  far  nearer  right  than  if  he  had  added 
that  a  play  was  to  be  a  just  and  lively  image  of  human 
nature  drawn  in  the  manner  supposed  to  be  that  of 
Grecian  dramatists. 


FROM  THE  RESTORATION  TO  1710         63 

Common  sense  and  a  vigorous  understanding  can 
never  rise  quite  superior  to  the  conventions  of  the  age» 
but  Dryden  comes  as  near  doing  so  as  any  literary  man 
of   any  time.    Of  the   French  playwrights,   Neander  . 

...      1    />^'^ 

By  their  servile  observations  of  the  unities  of  tinae  and       '  '     ^ 
place,  and  the  integrity  of  scenes,  they  have  brought  on  themA  Q^ 

selves  that  dearth  of  plot  and  narrowness  of  imagination,  \  ^ 

which  may  be  observed  in  all  their  plays.  How  many  beautiful  \ 
accidents  might  happen  in  two  or  three  days  which  cannot   \ 
arrive  with  any  probability  in  the  compass  of  twenty-four     I 
hours  ?  There  is  time  to  be  allowed  also  for  maturity  of  de-    / 
sign,  which  amongst  great  and  prudent  persons,  such  as  are   / 
often  represented  in  tragedy,  cannot  with  any  likelihood  of  / 
truth  be  brought  to  pass  at  so  short  a  warning.  Farther  by/ 
tying  themselves  strictly  to  the  unity  of  place,  and  unbrokenf 
scenes,  they  are  forced  many  times  to  omit  some  beauties 
which  cannot  be  shown  where  the  act  began,  but  might  if  the 
scene  were  interrupted  and  the  stage  cleared  for  the  persons 
to  enter  in  another  place. 

On  the  fly-leaf  of  a  copy  of  Rymer's  The  Tragedies 
of  the  Last  Age,  Dryden  wrote :  '  It  is  not  enough  that 
Aristotle  said  so,  for  Aristotle  drew  his  models  of 
tragedy  from  Sophocles  and  Euripides,  and  if  he  had 
seen  ours  might  have  changed  his  mind.' 

Shakespearean  criticism  is  closely  bound  up  with  this 
question  of  the  absolute  authority  of  the  '  ancients '  for 
the  next  hundred  years,  and  it  is  difficult  for  us  to 
understand  how  much  independence  of  judgment  and 
sturdy  good  sense  is  implied  in  an  expression  like  the 
above,  which  appears  to  us  a  mere  truism. 

In  The  Grounds  of  Criticism  in  Tragedy,  Dryden 
lays  down  excellent  rules  for  the  conduct  of  a  play, 
though  not  without  reference  to  the  artificial  standard 
of  the  times.    He  says,  '  Pointed  wit  and  sentences 


64  SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

affected  out  of  season ;  these  are  nothing  of  kin  to  the 
violence  of  passion.  No  man  is  at  leisure  to  make 
sentences  and  similes  when  his  soul  is  in  agony.' 

He  refers  evidently  to  such  expressions  as  Othello's 

Like  to  the  Pontic  Sea, 
Whose  icy  current  and  compulsive  course 
Ne'er  feels  retiring  ebb,  but  keeps  due  on  — 

or  to  Macbeth's 

Life  ...  is  a  tale 
Told  by  an  idiot,  full  of  sound  and  fury. 
Signifying  nothing. 

It  is  true  that  when  a  '  soul  is  in  agony  '  it  does  not 
'  make  sentences  and  similes,'  neither  does  it  speak  in 
blank  verse,  still  less  in  rhyme.  The  sentences  and 
similes  come  to  it.  The  stress  and  excitement  of  emotion 
in  the  natural  man  force  language  to  take  a  highly 
poetic  color.  The  classic  hero  is  dignified  and  restrained 
in  all  circumstances,  and  our  perception  of  this  gives 
his  words  power ;  but  a  poetic  nature  —  and  a  Teutonic 
hero  must  be  a  man  of  imaginative  excitability  —  rises 
naturally  to  figurative  heights  of  expression  when  *  his 
soul  is  in  agony.'  Indeed,  in  such  stress  uneducated 
persons  sometimes  express  themselves  in  language  of 
wonderful  reach  and  poignancy.  Even  the  wildest  ex- 
travagances of  Shakespeare's  heroes  are  not  out  of 
place.  Lear  and  Othello  can  disclose  themselves  in  no 
other  way. 

Dryden  goes  on  to  say :  'If  Shakespeare  be  allowed, 
as  I  think  he  must,  to  have  made  his  characters  distinct, 
it  will  easily  be  inferred  that  he  understood  the  nature 
of  the  passions,  because  it  has  already  been  proved  that 
confused  passions  make  indistinguishable  characters.' 
In  this  he  falls  into  two  of  the  errors  of  early  criticism, 
first,  that  a  man  must  'understand  the  nature  of  the 


FROM  THE  RESTORATION  TO  1710         66 

passions'  in  order  to  create  characters,  as  if  the  artist 
were  a  workman  handling  material  the  nature  of  which 
he  understood  as  a  smith  does  his  iron.  He  takes  it  for 
granted  that  the  '  passions  *  are  distinct  parts  of  the 
character,  which  may  represent  avarice  or  revenge  or 
some  '  ruling  passion  ' ;  and  second,  that  '  confused  pas- 
sions make  indistinguishable  characters.'  '  Confused 
passions,'  or  readiness  to  respond  to  different  emotions, 
indicate  complex  characters  in  which  contradictory  im- 
pulses, love,  ambition,  mercy,  and  revenge,  struggle  for 
mastery  in  a  strongly  marked  individual.  The  better 
human  nature  is  understood,  the  more  evident  it  becomes 
that  Shakespeare's  conception  of  character  was  true, 
not  because  he  '  understood  the  nature  of  the  passions,' 
but  because  he  divined  the  complexity  of  man.  In  the 
same  paper,  however,  Dryden  writes  that  '  Shakespeare 
had  a  universal  mind,  which  comprehended  all  characters 
and  all  passions,'  a  saying  almost  as  adequate  as  the 
great  one :  '  of  all  men,  ancient  and  modern,  he  had  the 
most  comprehensive  soul.'  Dryden  is  rightly  given  a 
very  high  rank  among  the  critics  of  Shakespeare.  He 
wrote  before  there  was  any  body  of  criticism  to  guide 
and  inspire  him,  and  when  the  plays  were  still  buried 
in  the  old  folios. 

Thomas  Rymer  (1641-1713)  is  highly  esteemed  by 
historians  for  his  Federa^  a  collection  of  the  original 
documents  of  the  alliances  and  treaties  between  Eng- 
land and  other  countries  from  1101  to  his  own  time,  an 
undertaking  which  as  'historiographer  royal'  he  prose- 
cuted with  great  industry  from  1672  to  his  death.  He 
wrote  a  tragedy  in  1667,  entitled  Edgar ^  or  the  Eng- 
lish Monarchy  which  was  not  successful,  and  in  1678  a 
pamphlet.  The  Tragedies  of  the  Last  Age  considered. 
In  1693  appeared  his  little  book,  A  Short  View  of 
Tragedy.  As  a  critic  he  is  a  very  preposterous  person, 


66  SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS   CRITICS 

that  IS,  he  was  deficient  in  the  first  requisite,  a  capacity 
for  sympathetically  appreciating  a  work  of  literary  art, 
and  was  entirely  unaware  of  his  deficiency*  He  is  men- 
tioned here  because  the  utterances  of  the  preposterous 
person  have  a  certain  significance  in  disclosing  the 
limits  of  the  opinion  of  the  age.  Such  a  person,  writing 
at  the  present  time,  hows  to  public  opinion  in  assuming 
that  the  plays  are  great  literature,  but  tries  to  prove 
that  they  were  written  by  Lord  Bacon  on  the  ground 
that  a  man  lacking  the  advantages  of  '  classical  educa- 
tion '  cannot  possibly  be  a  great  poet.  That  a  scholar 
and  literary  man  like  Rymer  could  write  a  book  assum- 
ing that  Shakespeare's  plays  were  nonsense  shows  that 
a  century  after  the  appearance  of  the  great  plays  their 
true  value  was  not  generally  understood,  notwithstand- 
ing the  appreciation  of  Dryden  and  of  many  others  of 
literary  insight.  So  general  became  the  opinion  that 
Shakespeare  was  a  great  poet  as  well  as  a  great  dra- 
matist in  the  next  century,  that  to  criticise  him  ad- 
versely was  to  write  one's  self  down  an  ass,  — 

Deaf  to  the  melody  of  sound, 
To  every  form  of  beauty  blind, 

which  the  most  obtuse  person  hesitates  to  do.  Even 
George  III,  when  confessing  to  Miss  Burney  that  Shake- 
speare's plays  were  *  sad  stuff,'  adds, '  But  one  must  not 
say  so,  you  know.' 

Rymer' s  style  is  detestable,  and  goes  to  prove  how 
much  English  prose  owes  to  John  Dryden  for  consecu- 
tiveness  and  intelligibility.  In  his  second  book  he 
quotes  quite  freely  from  Othello^  and  the  effect  of  find- 
ing the  address  to  the  senate,  — '  most  potent  grave  and 
reverend  Signiors,'  —  and  Othello's  farewell  to  war  on 
his  pages  is  very  odd,  something  as  if  a  man  should  dis- 
cern a  heap  of  jewels  amid  the  ordure  of  a  stable  floor. 


FROM  THE  RESTORATION  TO  1710         67 

The  first  he  calls  a '  tedious  and  heavy  form  of  pleading,* 
and  the  second  '  has  nothing  poetical  in  it  besides  the 
sound  that  pleases.'  One  cannot  tell  whether  it  was  per- 
versity or  dullness  of  ear  that  made  him  deaf  to  the 
dignified  melody  of  the  orations  in  Julius  Caesar.  That 
he  should  entirely  overlook  the  feminine  charm  of  Des- 
demona  and  the  heart-rending  pathos  of  the  situation 
and  the  matronly  dignity  of  Portia  —  dear  to  Brutus  as 
the  '  ruddy  drops  that  visit '  his  '  sad  heart '  —  is  not 
so  much  to  be  wondered  at,  for  no  one  seems  to  have 
noticed  the  delicacy  and  beauty  of  Shakespeare's  hero- 
ines till  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century :  this  is  one 
of  the  strangest  facts  in  the  history  of  Shakespearean 
criticism ;  but  that  Rymer  should  not  have  noticed  the 
eloquent  beat  of  poetry  that  from  its  first  delivery 
stirred  the  hearts  of  all  Englishmen  seems  incompre- 
hensible. What  was  the  mental  condition  of  a  man  who 
wrote  — 

This  may  show  with  what  indignity  our  Poet  treats  the 
noblest  Romans.  But  there  is  no  other  cloth  in  his  wardrobe. 
Every  one  must  be  contented  to  wear  a  fool's  coat  who  comes 
to  be  dressed  by  him. 

Nor  is  he  more  civil  to  the  ladies. 

Portia  in  good  manners  might  have  challenged  more  re- 
spect, she  that  shines,  a  glory  of  the  first  magnitude  in  the 
Galaxy  of  Heroic  Dames  is  with  our  poet  scarce  one  remove 
from  a  natural.  She  is  the  own  cousin  German,  of  one  piece, 
the  very  same  impertinent,  silly  flesh  and  blood  with  Desde- 
mona.  Shakespeare's  genius  lay  for  Comedy  and  Humour. 
In  tragedy  he  appears  quite  out  of  his  element,  he  raves  and 
rambles  without  any  coherence,  any  spark  of  reason,  or  any 
rule  to  control  him  or  set  bounds  to  his  frenzy. 

Rymer  had  no  doubt  heard  the  great  actor,  Better- 
ton,  deliver  the  tragic  music  of  Othello^  and  it  is  impos- 
sible to  resist  the  conclusion  that  the  failure  of   his 


68  SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

tragedy  Edgar^  and  the  success  of  Othello  and  Julius 
CcBsar  in  winning  the  plaudits  of  the  audience,  had 
aroused  in  him  a  feeling  of  personal  animosity  against 
the  great  dramatist.  Preposterous  as  it  seems,  a  similar 
sentiment  probably  actuated  Voltaire  half  a  century 
later. 

Rymer  bears  testimony  to  the  fact  that  the  scene 
between  Othello  and  lago,  ill,  iii,  is  the  '  top  scene 
that  raises  Othello  above  all  other  tragedies  on  our 
theatre.'  This  is  interesting,  though  he  attributes  the 
success  to  the  actors.  We  also  find  him  under  the  in- 
fluence of  an  error  that  has  done  a  great  deal  to  vitiate 
\  dramatic  criticism  in  men  infinitely  his  superiors :  that 
is,  that  the  characters  of  a  drama  must  conform  to 
certain  traditions,  —  the  kings  move  in  a  world  of 
unreal  and  unbending  dignity,  the  soldier  be  a  stage 
soldier,  and  the  villain  a  stage  villain.  Rymer  com- 
plains of  lago,  that  Shakespeare,  to  *  entertain  the 
audience  with  something  new  and  surprising  against 
common  sense,  would  pass  upon  us  a  close,  dissembling, 
false,  insinuating  rascal  instead  of  an  open-hearted, 
frank,  plain-dealing  soldier,  a  character  constantly  worn 
by  them  for  some  thousands  of  years  in  the  world' 
(the  Duke  of  Alva,  for  instance,  or  General  Monk). 
Shakespeare  does,  in  his  minor  characters,  use  the  tra- 
ditionary stage  figures,  —  the  '  miles  gloriosus '  in  Pa- 
roUes  or  the  Bobadil  in  Pistol,  but  his  dramatis  per- 
sonce  are  persons,  each '  himself  alone.'  Even  his  clowns 
have  each  an  individual  flavor,  and  the  jesting  of 
Touchstone  is  on  a  different  key  from  that  of  Feste  in 
Twelfth  Night.  All  this,  however,  was  not  to  be  dis- 
covered till  the  nineteenth  century,  and  is  of  course  far 
beyond  the  ken  of  Rymer.* 

1  The  modern  preposterous  person,  —  the  race  is  immortal,  — 
if  he  ventures  on  Shakespearean  criticism,  takes  up  the  thesis  that 


FROM  THE  RESTORATION  TO  1710         69 

Rymer  is  evidently  entirely  negligible  as  far  as  appre- 
ciation or  intelligent  criticism  of  the  drama  is  con- 
cerned.^ He  is  mentioned  to  show  that  at  the  end  of  the 
seventeenth  century,  in  spite  of  the  generous  praise  of 
Dry  den,  the  reputation  of  Shakespeare  was  not  so  firmly 
established  as  to  render  it  impossible  for  senseless  abuse 
of  the  plays  to  be  published  by  a  member  of  the  learned 
and  scholarly  world.  He  was  rebuked  by  Dennis  and 
Gildon,  literary  critics  of  the  period,  in  short  critical 

Francis  Bacou  was  the  writer  of  the  plays,  and  in  an  extreme  in- 
stance, like  Mr.  Ignatius  Donnelly,  finds  a  cryptogram  imbedded 
in  the  text.  The  motive  of  money-getting  raises  him  above  the 
spiteful  ineptitude  of  Rymer.  Another  favorite  pursuit  of  the  pre- 
posterous person  is  hunting  for  mare's  nests  and  exploiting  the 
plays  as  mines  of  mystical  meanings,  a  pursuit  inaugurated  by  the 
German  Romanticists.  In  an  edition  of  the  Sonnets  the  editor  thus 
interprets  the  play  of  *  Pyramus  and  Thisbe '  in  Midsummer 
Night's  Dream :  — 

*The  student  will  see  the  signification  of  the  wall,  "the  vile 
wall  which  did  these  lovers  sunder."  Through  this  wall  (the  dull 
substance  of  the  flesh)  the  lovers  may  indeed  communicate  but 
only  by  a  "whisper,  very  secretly,"  because  the  intercourse  of 
spirit  with  spirit  is  a  secret  act  of  the  soul  in  a  sense  of  its  unity 
with  the  spirit.  The  student  will  readily  catch  the  meaning  of  the 
"  moonshine  "  or  nature  light,  the  moon  being  always  taken  as 
nature  in  all  mystic  writings.  He  will  see  the  symbolism  of  the 
"  dog  "  —  the  watch-dog  of  course  —  representing  the  moral  guard 
in  a  nature-life  ;  as  also  the  bush  of  thorns  ever  ready  to  illustrate 
the  doctrine  that  the  way  of  the  transgressor  is  hard.  The  student 
will  notice  the  hint  that  the  lovers  meet  by  moonlight  and  at  a 
tomb,  and  he  will  understand  the  office  of  the  lion  which  tears  not 
Thisbe  herself,  but  only  her  mantle,  or  what  the  poet  calls  the 
extern  of  life  ;  and  finally  will  observe  that  the  two  principles 
disappear,  for  the  unity  cannot  become  mystically  visible  until  the 
two  principles  are  mystically  lost  sight  of.' 

This  is  a  touch  beyond  Mr.  Thomas  Rymer.    Changing  Ben 

Jouson's  lines  a  little,  we  can  say, — 

Triumph,  my  country,  thou  hast  two  to  show 
To  whom  all  fools  of  Europe  homage  owe. 

^  Rymer  seems  to  have  used  the  quarto  of  Othello  in  his  extracts. 


70  SHAKESPEARE   AND   HIS   CRITICS 

publications,  but  not  with  the  scorn  his  sentiments 
merited.  There  was  evidently  in  the  literary  world  a 
feeling  that  playwrights  ought  to  observe  the  unities. 
Even  Dryden  did  so  at  first,  though  later  he  said  that 
he  preferred  to  '  sin  with  honest  Shakespeare.'  In  the 
next  generation  Addison  in  his  '  Cato '  followed  the 
rules  very  closely  and  produced  a  very  uninteresting 
play.  Numerous  writers  of  less  note  followed  the  same 
standard,  regardless  of  the  fact  that  their  plays  were 
rarely  successful  and  that  Shakespeare  continued  to 
delight  large  audiences,  a  sure  proof  that  he  was  right 
in  his  practice.  In  1709  Rowe's  edition  was  brought 
out,  and  the  long  struggle  on  the  proper  readings  was 
inaugurated  to  continue  through  the  eighteenth  century, 
in  the  editions  of  Pope,  Theobald,  Johnson,  Steevens, 
and  Malone.  This  involved  a  consideration  of  his  merits 
as  a  dramatist,  for  each  edition  was  prefaced  with  an 
introduction  containing  more  or  less  literary  criticism. 
As  soon  as  the  plays  were  published  in  a  form  accessi- 
ble to  the  public  the  conviction  that  the  author  was  a 
great  dramatist  was  certain  to  spread  till  it  became  a 
matter  of  national  faith,  strongest  among  those  least 
capable  of  justifying  it.  The  Tational  grounds  for  such 
a  feeling  were  not  investigated  till  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury. 

JOHN  DENNIS  (1657-1734) 

Dennis  was  a  literary  man  of  the  period  and,  like 
most  of  his  colleagues,  a  playwright  whose  dramas  could 
not  hold  the  stage.  ^  He  was  a  vain  and  irascible  per- 

^  Dennis  invented  a  method  of  producing  stage-thunder,  and 
being  present  at  a  presentation  of  Macbeth  where  his  invention 
was  used,  he  rose  and  said,  *  The  rascals  have  refused  my  play, 
but  they  have  stolen  my  thunder.''  A  man  who  adds  to  the  language 
a  phrase  so  frequently  useful  is  entitled  to  the  gratitude  of  pos- 
terity. 


FROM   THE   RESTORATION   TO   1710         71 

son,  and  disappointment  and  poverty  made  him  envious 
and  unreasonable  in  his  later  days.  He  criticised  Pope's 
Homer  and  Pope's  pastoral  poetry  with  great  vigor, 
and  incurred  the  enmity  of  the  poet,  who  gave  him  a 
conspicuous  place  in  the  Dunciad,  His  criticism  of 
Pope's  writings^  was  mixed  with  personalities,  and  it  is 
greatly  to  the  credit  of  the  poet  whose  art,  religion,  and 
person  were  subjected  to  vulgar  abuse,  that  when  Dennis 
was  old,  poor,  and  neglected  he  joined  in  a  subscription 
for  his  relief.  Dennis  was  a  learned  man,  and  in  some 
regards  a  good  critic,  —  he  was  very  appreciative  of  the 
great  qualities  of  Milton,  —  but  he  was  possessed  with 
the  notion  of  the  authority  of  the  ancients  and  of  the 
binding  character  of  '  the  rules.'  Unlike  the  ridiculous 
Rymer,  he  recognizes  that  '  Shakespeare  was  one  of  the 
greatest  geniuses  that  the  world  e'er  saw  for  the  tragic 
stage.'  He  says  that  — 

His  imaginations  were  often  as  just  as  they  were  bold  and 
strong.  He  had  a  natural  discretion  which  never  could  have 
been  taught  him,  and  his  judgment  was  strong  and  pene- 
trating. He  seems  to  have  wanted  nothing  but  time  and 
leisure  for  thought  to  have  found  out  those  rules  of  which 
he  appears  so  ignorant.  .  .  .  His  expression  is  in  many 
places  good  and  pure  after  a  hundred  years  ;  simple  tho '  ele- 
vated, graceful  tho '  bold,  and  easy  tho'  strong.  He  seems 
to  have  been  the  original  of  our  English  Tragical  har- 
mony. 

He  then  finds  fault  with  Shakespeare  for  making  so 
many  of  his  aristocratic  personages  talk  and  act  like 
ordinary  mortals, '  against  the  dignity  of  noble  poetry,' 
and  for  paying  no  attention  to  '  poetic  justice.'  He  says, 
'  The  good  and  the  bad  then,  perishing  promiscuously 
in  the  best  of  Shakespeare's  Tragedies,  there  can  be 
either  none  or  only  weak  instruction  in  them ;  for  such 
promiscuous  events  call  the  government  of  Providence 


72         SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

into  question  and  by  sceptics  and  libertines  are  resorbed 
into  chance.'  It  does  not  seem  to  occur  to  him  that 
'sceptics  and  libertines'  are  usually  acute  enough  to 
draw  from  the  'promiscuous  events'  of  life  the  con- 
clusion that  the  good  and  the  bad  'perish  promiscu- 
ously '  when  the  laws  of  life  are  violate^d  by  either. 

He  develops  with  considerable  force  the  thesis  that 
Shakespeare  was  not  conversant  with  ancient  history 
and  says  that '  his  friends  were  not  qualified  to  advise 
him,'  for  even  '  Ben  Jonson  had  no  right  notion  of 
Tragedy.'  'Jonson  erred  grossly  in  Tragedy,  of  which 
there  were  not  only  stated  rules  but  rules  which  he  had 
often  read  and  had  even  translated.'  If  Shakespeare 
had  only  had  Mr.  Dennis  at  his  elbow,  he  might  have 
written  some  tragedies  not  only  fine  but  regular.  As 
that  could  not  be,  Dennis  'employed  some  time  and 
pains,  and  that  little  judgment  which  I  have  acquired 
in  these  matters  by  a  long  and  faithful  reading  both  of 
ancients  and  moderns,  in  adding,  retrenching,  and  alter- 
ing several  things  in  the  Coriolanus  of  Shakespeare.' 
It  was  put  on  the  stage,  and  failed  in  spite  of  the  '  im- 
provements.' The  idea  that  there  were  'monstrous  fine 
things'  and  grave  structural  faults  in  Shakespeare's 
plays,  and  that  the  fine  things  could  be  cut  out  and 
reset  in  a  regular  frame,  was  very  prevalent  among 
literary  men  in  the  seventeenth  century.  It  was  the 
cause  of  the  adaptations  and  amended  versions,  some 
twenty-five  of  which  were  put  on  the  stage  between 
1670  and  1703.  The  first  and  most  sacrilegious  was 
Dry  den  and  Davenant's  desecration  of  The  Tempest;  the 
most  excusable  was  Colley  Gibber's  version  of  Richard 
III,  For  the  modern  stage,  of  course,  acting  versions 
have  to  be  prepared,  because  Shakespeare,  whose  scenes 
were  imaginary,  changes  the  place  so  frequently  —  in 
one  act  of  Antony  and  Cleopatra  eighteen  times  —  that 


FROM   THE    RESTORATION   TO  1710        73 

the  modern  manager  cannot  afford  to  present  his  plays 
as  they  were  written.  Another  reason  is  that  the  plays 
are  too  long  for  modern  representation,  when  a  change 
of  scene  means  a  change  of  scenery.  This  adaptation  to 
the  modern  stage  is,  of  course,  quite  a  different  thing 
from  rewriting  the  play,  bringing  in  new  matter  and 
new  characters,  as  was  done  with  such  disastrous  results 
in  the  seventeenth  century.^ 

CHABIiES   GIIiDON  (1665-1724) 

Gildon  belongs  to  the  same  class  as  Dennis,  — hack- 
writer, playwright,  scholar,  and  critic,  —  but  was  a  per- 
son of  a  much  more  amiable  and  manageable  disposition. 
He,  too,  changed  one  of  Shakespeare's  plays,  Measure 
for  Measure^  into  something  poor  and  strange,  but  he 
condemned  Dryden  and  Davenant's  version  of  Hie 
Tempest^  and,  like  Dennis,  he  became  a  mark  for  the 
satire  of  Pope.  In  1710  he  contributed  two  essays  to  an 
additional  volume  for  Rowe's  edition  of  the  plays :  one 
entitled  '  An  Essay  on  the  Art,  Rise,  and  Progress  of 
the  Stage,'  and  the  other  'Remarks  on  the  Plays  of 
Shakespeare.'  His  general  position  does  not  differ 
greatly  from  that  of  Dennis,  though  he  insists  more  on 
the  poet's  disregard  of  the  unities  and  less  on  his  viola- 
tion of  poetic  justice.  'Nature,' he  says  (enabled  Shake- 
speare to  succeed  in  Manners^  and  Diction  often  to 
perfection,  but  he  could  never  by  his  force  of  genius  or 
nature  vanquish  the-barbarous  mode  of  the  times  and 
come  to  any  excellence  in  the  Fable  except  in  the 
Merry  Wives  of  Windsor  and  The  Tempest).  In  his 
second  essay  Gildon  gives  the  epitomes  of  the  plots  of 

1  This  subject  is  fully  treated  in  Professor  Lounsbury's  excel- 
lent volume,  Shakespeare  as  a  Dramatic  Artist. 

^  By  the  term  '  Manners '  Gildon  apparently  means  character- 
drawing. 


74  SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS   CRITICS 

the  successive  plays,  and  generally  some  reference  to 
the  sources  of  the  story  and  copious  quotations  of  pas- 
sages that  seem  admirable  to  him.  This  is,  then,  the  first 
commentary,  the  germ  of  Gervinus  and  Brandeis.  Of 
Lear  he  says  that  *  the  King  and  Cordelia  ought  by  no 
means  to  have  died,  and  therefore  Mr.  Tate  has  very 
justly  altered  that  particular  which  must  disgust  the 
audience  and  reader  to  have  so  much  vertue  and  piety 
meet  so  unjust  a  reward.' 

He  approves  of  Much  Ado  about  Nothing:  'To 
quote  all  the  comick  excellences  of  this  play  would  be 
to  transcribe  three  parts  of  it.  For  all  that  passes  be- 
tween Benedict  and  Beatrice  is  admirable.  .  .  .  For 
while  Shakespeare  is  out  in  the  Dramatic  Imitation 
of  the  Fable  he  always  draws  men  and  women  so  per- 
fectly that  when  we  read,  we  can  scarce  persuade  our- 
selves but  that  the  discourse  is  real  and  no  fiction.' 

PeojDle  of  rank  must  not  express  themselves  naturally. 
'The  scolding  between  Elinor  and  Constance  [King 
John']  is  quite  out  of  character;  and  indeed  it  is  a 
difficult  matter  to  represent  a  quarrel  betwixt  two 
women  without  falling  into  something  indecent  for  their 
degree  to  speak,  as  most  of  what  is  said  in  this  scene  is. 
For  whatever  the  Ladies  of  the  stocks-market  might  do. 
Queens  and  Princesses  can  never  be  supposed  to  talk 
to  one  another  at  that  rate.' 

The  disregard  of  the  unity  of  time  and  place  in  the 
historical  plays  is  shocking,  for  of  Henry  VIII  he 
says : — 

This  concludes  the  English  Historical  Plays ;  tho  the  rest 
are  indeed  little  better,  yet  they  generally  are  within  a  nar- 
rower compass  of  time  and  take  in  fewer  actions.  Tho  when 
they  exceed  the  unities,  I  see  no  reason  why  they  may  not  as 
well  and  with  good  reason  stretch  the  time  to  five  thousand 
years  and  the  actions  to  all  the  nations  and  people  of  the  uni- 


FROM   THE   RESTORATION   TO   1710         75 

verse,  and  as  there  has  been  a  puppet-show  of  the  Creation 
of  the  World  so  there  may  be  a  Play  called  the  History  of 
the  World. 

Gildon  sternly  condemns  the  '  wholly  monstrous,  un- 
natural mixture  of  tragedy  and  comedy '  in  the  same 
play,  on  the  authority  of  the  ancients,  one  of  whom 
had  said  '  Wit  and  Railery  belong  not  properly  to  a 
tragedy,  to  which  laugbter  is  an  enemy.'  Dryden  had 
said :  —  '*'^ 

Why  should  he   [the  classic  critic]  imagine  the  soul  of  ^ 
man  more  heavy  than  his  senses  ?    Does  not  the  eye  pass       / 
from  an  unpleasant  object  to  a  pleasant  one  in  much  shorter      / 
time  than  is  required  for  this  ?  and  does  not  the  unpleasant-    / 
ness  of  the  first  commend  the  beauty  of  the  second  ?  / 

Mr.  Gildon  argues  that  — 

The  soul  can  no  more  pass  in  a  moment  from  the  tumult 
of  a  strong  passion  in  which  it  is  thoroughly  engaged  than 
the  sea  can  pass  from  the  most  turbulent  and  furious  storm 
into  a  perfect  calm  in  a  moment.  There  must  be  time  for 
the  terrible  emotion  to  subside  by  degrees  into  a  calm,  and 
there  must  be  a  gradual  passage  from  the  extremity  of  grief, 
pity,  or  the  like  to  its  opposite,  mirth,  humor,  or  laughter. 

Mr.  Gildon  seems  to  think  that  the  grief  we  feel  at 
the  death  of  Hamlet  is  precisely  the  same  as  the  emo- 
tion that  would  possess  us  at  the  lamentable  end  of  a 
dear  brother.  If  that  were  so,  no  one  but  ghouls  could 
be  dragged  to  see  the  play.  He  might  as  well  argue 
that  a  picture  of  a  battle  was  dangerous  on  the  walls 
of  a  room.  Art  is  the  representation  of  life  without 
its  frightful  responsibilities.  The  grief  we  feel  at  wit- 
nessing a  tragic  action  on  the  stage  is  an  artificial,  a 
stimulated  emotion,  but  the  amusement  with  which  we 
witness  a  comedy  is  genuine.  This  is  a  profound  dif- 
ference between  comedy  and  tragedy,  but  no  reason 
why  they  should  not  be  combined.  A  year  or  two  later 


76  SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

Theobald  tells  us,  '  For  these  thirty  years  last  past,  I 
believe,  not  a  season  has  elapsed  in  which  it  [^Hamlet] 
has  not  been  performed  on  the  stage  more  than  once.' 
The  audiences  insisted  on  the  gravediggers'  scene,  and 
rebelled  when  it  was  cut  out.  This  might  well  have 
given  the  critics  pause.  For  when  an  art  representation 
is  delightful  to  several  generations,  there  must  be  some 
philosophical  explanation  of  the  fact.  The  audiences 
of  a  season  may  be  wrong,  but  there  is  no  appeal  from 
the  verdict  of  the  audiences  of  a  century.  It  does  not 
follow  that  the  play  which  lasts  is  perfect,  but  it  does 
follow  that  its  great  qualities  are  far  more  important 
than  its  defects,  and  are  the  qualities  for  which  the 
critic  should  search  and  which  he  should  try  to  bring 
to  the  light.  It  also  follows  that  the  defects  are  not 
detachable. 

These  two  Shakespearean  commentators  are  by  no 
means  of  prime  importance,  but  their  writings  show  that 
the  cultivated  and  scholarly  world  believed  in  the  early 
eighteenth  century  that  there  were  in  Shakespeare's 
plays  admirable  passages  due  to  an  untutored  poetical 
genius,  and  grave  faults  due  to  the  fact  that  he  had  never 
learned  the  rules  for  a  correct  drama,  and  further  that 
his  plays  might  be  rewritten  so  as  to  retain  the  beauties 
and  eliminate  the  errors.  When  they  tried  to  do  this,  the 
result,  to  their  great  surprise,  was  a  play  which  would  not 
hold  an  audience.  Tate's  Lear  and  Gibber's  Richard 
III^  it  is  true,  were  fairly  well  received,  but  the  pit  de- 
manded the  gravediggers'  scene  in  Hamlet^  though  '  the 
judicious '  could  easily  prove  that  it  was  a  dramatic  blem- 
ish. To  the  audience  it  was  not  merely  amusing,  but  a 
y  powerful  and  truthful  presentation  of  one  of  the  great 
f  contrasts  of  life.  To  the  learned  it  was  always  a  puzzle 
f  why  Shakespeare's  plays,  written  in  defiance  of  the 
rules,  were  so  attractive  on  the  stage  in  their  original 


FROM  THE  RESTORATION  TO  1710         77 

condition,  and  received  with  such  indifference  when  the 
blemishes  were  removed.  That  the  blemishes  were  really 
beauties  could  not  be  admitted  for  an  instant,  for  Ans- 
totle  had  not  said  so.  The  French  dramatists  were  au- 
thorities in  questions  of  good  taste,  and  their  tragedies 
were  written  in  accordance  with  the  rules.  It  took  a  long 
time  to  change  this  frame  of  the  critical  mind,  and  to  this 
idea  that  the  plays  were  full  of  barbarous  errors  is  partly 
due  the  craze  for  amending  the  text  by  improvements, 
which  possessed  some  of  the  eighteenth-century  editors. 
When  dogmas  are  once  firmly  established  on  authority, 
years  must  elapse  before  experience  can  prove  that  they 
are  unsound.  It  is  difficult  to  codify  common  sense  in 
art  so  as  to  make  it  acceptable  to  professionals.  It  is 
perhaps  more  difficult  to  do  so  in  government  or  relig- 
ion. We  need  not  wonder  that  it  was  a  long  time  before 
the  learned  world  gave  up  the  idea  that  Shakespeare's 
faults  were  entirely  technical  and  could  be  cured  by  ap- 
plying a  just  method  based  on  the  practice  of  the  writers 
of  a  foreign  country  two  thousand  years  ago,  or,  rather, 
on  the  notions  of  learned  men  as  to  what  that  method 
was.  The  grasp  of  a  dead  hand  is  not  readily  relaxed. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  EARLY  EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  EDITORS 
IflCHOLAS  BOWE  (1674-1718) 

RowE  was  the  first  of  the  multitude  of  Shakespearean 
editors.  He  was  a  successful  playwright  and  literary 
man  of  the  early  eighteenth  century,  and  attained  the 
dignity  of  poet-laureate  under  Queen  Anne.  He  brought 
out  his  edition  of  Shakespeare  in  seven  octavo  volumes 
in  1709.  He  used  as  his  original  a  copy  of  the  Fourth 
Folio,  and  thereby  subjected  himself  to  the  burden  of 
all  the  errors  that  the  later  folios  superinduced  on  the 
first,  so  that  many  of  the  emendations  he  made  are 
merely  corrections  of  misprints  he  might  have  avoided 
by  going  back  to  the  original.  He  had  no  idea  of  the 
value  of  the  old  quarto  ^  texts,  and  little  of  the  necessity 
of  reading  all  available  books  of  the  Shakespearean 
period  so  as  to  familiarize  himself  with  usages  and  ex- 
pressions already  becoming  obsolete.  In  fact,  neither  he 
nor  his  successor,  Pope,  was  a  Shakespearean  scholar  in 
the  modern  sense.  They  could  not  well  be  so,  since  the 
duty  of  careful  collation  and  investigation  of  sources 
was  not  then  understood. 

Nevertheless,  Rowe  did  a  good  work.  He  put  it  in 
the  power  of  everybody  to  procure  in  a  convenient  form 
and  at  a  moderate  cost  all  the  plays.  Men  were  no 
longer  forced  to  buy  a  rare,  cumbrous,  and  expensive 
folio  or  else  content  themselves  with  such  pamphlets  of 

^  Nevertheless,  Rowe  inserted  from  the  1504  quarto  Hamlet,  or 
from  some  quarto  now  lost,  the  lines  from  17  to  38,  i,  iv  ;  and 
also  fifty  lines,  iv,  iv,  including  the  great  soliloquy,  *How  all 
occasions  do  inform  against  me.* 


EARLY  EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  EDITORS    79 

separate  plays  as  they  could  find.  Rowe  brought  the 
spelling  up  to  date  and  corrected  the  irregular  punc- 
tuation of  the  folios.  He  prefixed  lists  of  the  dramatis 
personce^  so  useful  in  introducing  the  reader  to  the 
company  whose  intimate  acquaintance  he  is  about  to 
make.  Some  of  the  plays  in  the  folios  are  divided  into  ! 
acts  and  scenes,  some  into  acts  only,  and  some  printed 
solid.  Rowe  divided  all  into  acts  and  scenes,  and  his  \ 
experience  as  a  practical  playwright  enabled  him  to  do 
this  in  the  main  properly,  so  that  most  of  his  divisions 
are  accepted  at  present.  The  scenes  in  Shakespeare's 
plays,  when  marked  in  the  folios,  are  distinguished  by 
change  of  place,  all  the  actors  leaving  the  stage  at  the 
end  of  the  scene,  and  not,  as  in  the  French  stage,  by 
a  change  of  group  so  that  a  scene  terminates  when 
one  actor  departs  or  another  enters.  As  change  of 
local  scene  was  left  largely  to  the  imagination  in  the 
Elizabethan  period  and  was  not  marked  by  change  of 
'  scenery,'  the  scenes  in  Shakespeare's  plays  are  some- 
times very  numerous,  and  this  feature  presents  great 
difiiculty  to  modern  representation,  when  every  place  is 
indicated  by  a  change  of  '  set.'  Rowe's  task  in  dividing 
the  plays  into  scenes  was  therefore  one  of  little  diffi- 
culty. Acts,  on  the  contrary,  should  indicate  the  com- 
pletion of  a  certain  part  of  the  action.  Each  act  should 
be  a  chapter  in  the  story,  and  the  divisions  plainly 
marked  as  steps  in  the  unfolding  of  the  plot  and 
separated  by  a  short  interval.  In  setting  these  larger 
divisions,  Rowe,  thanks  to  his  practical  experience, 
shows  in  the  main  great  good  sense  and  conception  of 
the  artistic  and  logical  effect  of  the  dramatic  chapter  or 
act.  In  the  scene  divisions  he  followed,  as  said  before, 
the  method  of  the  plays  already  divided,  and  regarded 
a  scene  as  a  locality.  The  divisions  in  any  example  of 
literary  art  — the  paragraphs,  the  chapters,  the  cantos, 


80  SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

the  scenes,  and  the  acts  —  are  of  great  importance  In 
making  an  impression  on  the  reader's  eye  and  mind. 
If  we  regard  the  play  primarily  as  a  spectacle,  the 
scenes  should  be  short,  for  whenever  a  new  person 
comes  on  the  stage  a  new  tableau  is  formed.  The  scenes 
thus  become  like  a  succession  of  pictures  thrown  on  an 
illuminated  screen  ;  they  succeed  one  another  rapidly 
and  form  a  unified  impression  if  they  are  artistically 
combined  and  contrasted.  But  if  our  fundamental  con- 
ception of  the  play  is  action  rather  than  spectacle,  the 
scene  or  minor  division  may  be  longer  and  contain  a 
definite  part  of  the  action  or  development  of  the  story. 
A  long  scene  of  this  kind  is  sometimes  a  little  drama  of 
itself.  Thus  in  Hamlet^  ill,  i,  'A  room  in  the  Castle,' 
the  entire  anti-Hamlet  party  enter  and  discuss  the 
question  of  Hamlet's  lunacy,  Rosencrantz  and  Guilden- 
stern  retire,  the  King  explains  the  test  of  Hamlet's 
sanity  suggested  by  Polonius  (ii,  ii)  ;  the  Queen  re- 
tires;  the  two,  Polonius  and  the  King,  instruct  Ophe- 
lia and  hide.  Hamlet  enters  and  delivers  '  To  be  or 
not  to  be.'  He  notices  Ophelia,  and  addresses  her  with 
bitter  irony.  He  retires ;  Ophelia's  beautiful  soliloquy, 
*0,  what  a  noble  mind  is  here  o'erthrown,'  follows; 
the  King  and  Polonius  reenter,  and  after  a  few  words 
all  depart. 

Locally  and  dramatically  this  is  one  scene,  and  is  so 
marked  in  the  folio.  One  motif  runs  throuo:h  it.  From 
the  pictorial  point  of  view  it  is  at  least  three,  if  not  four. 
Pope,  the  next  editor,  made  three  without  any  warrant. 
He  should  have  followed  the  folio,  and  should  have 
noticed  that  though  a  drama  is  a  compound  of  tab- 
leaux and  actions,  in  Shakespeare's  conception  the  ac- 
tion, the  thing  done,  is  the  vital  matter ;  though  the 
action  may  not  be  a  concrete  deed,  it  may  be  the  *  strug- 
gle of  a  limed  soul.'  And  in  Shakespeare's  plays,  when 


EARLY  EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  EDITORS    81 

the  stage  is  '  voided,'  an  entirely  new  subdivision  of 
the  action  is  presented.  At  the  same  time  it  must 
be  admitted  that  the  Shakespearean  scene  sometimes 
covers  different  dramatic  elements.  In  Hamlet^  ill, 
iii,  the  King  gives  the  courtiers  his  directions  for  the 
voyage  to  England.  Polonius  tells  the  King  that  he 
intends  to  overhear  Hamlet's  words  to  his  mother; 
the  King  is  left  alone,  and  his  ineffective  attempt  to 
pray  follows;  then  Hamlet  enters  and  watches  him, 
and  resolves  not  to  kill  him.  The  latter  part  of  this 
marvelous  scene  has  little  to  do  with  the  beginning, 
either  as  a  spectacle  or  as  action.  But  the  first  part  is 
subtly  linked  to  the  last  by  the  fact  that  the  King,  after 
arranging  for  Hamlet's  murder,  prays  to  be  forgiven 
for  the  murder  of  Hamlet's  father.  It  is  a  marvelous 
disclosure  of  character  when  Claudius  says,  '  Then  I  '11 
look  up ;  my  fault  is  past,^  and  forgets  that  he  has 
just  arranged  a  new  and  equally  heinous  murder.  It  is 
never  entirely  safe  to  assume  that  Shakespeare  com- 
mitted a  fault  of  construction.  Rowe,  then,  was  right  in 
following  the  arrangement  of  scenes  in  the  folio  as  far 
as  possible. 

Rowe's  knowledge  of  the  stage  enabled  him  to  cor- 
rect the  marking  of  exits  and  entrances,  which  were 
sometimes  omitted  and  sometimes  displaced  in  the  ori- 
ginal. He  did  something,  too,  towards  distinguishing 
'  asides,'  but  very  little  towards  emending  difficult  pas- 
sages, except  when  the  error  is  manifestly  typographi- 
cal. His  edition,  being  from  the  Fourth  Folio,  includes, 
of  course,  Pericles^  and  the  doubtful  plays.  A  second 
edition  was  published  in  1714. 

Rowe  perceives  the  power  and  beauty  of  the  plays. 
There  is  none  of  the  insufferable  conceit  of  Rymer  in 
his  introductory  essay.  He  holds,  however,  the  eight- 
eenth-century idea  of  the  antithesis  between  '  nature ' 


82  SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

and  '  art,'  and  says  of  his  author :  '  Art  had  so  little  and 
nature  so  large  a  share  in  what  he  did,  that  for  aught  I 
know  the  performances  of  his  youth,  as  they  were  the 
most  vigorous  and  had  the  most  fire  and  strength  of 
imagination  in  them,  were  the  best.''  This  taking  it  for 
granted  that  the  mysterious  thing,  genius,  can  be  a 
master  before  it  is  an  apprentice,  comes  very  likely 
from  the  notion  of  the  '  divine  afflatus '  as  an  extra- 
human  energy  entering  into  its  chosen  subjects,  like 
'  the  power '  in  a  negro  revival,  and  is  an  error  running 
through  much  of  early  criticism.  In  fact,  it  is  not 
entirely  eradicated  yet. 

Again,  Rowe  says :  *  Shakespeare  lived  under  a  kind 
of  mere  light  of  nature  and  had  never  been  made  ac- 
quainted with  those  written  precepts  '  (the  rules),  'so  it 
would  be  hard  to  judge  him  by  a  law  he  knew  nothing 
of.'  Why  not?  '-Ignorantia  legis  neminem  excusat^ 
But  the  true  defense  is,  that  the  Greek  rules  are  not 
binding  on  an  English  playwright  except  so  far  as  they 
conform  to  the  eternal  laws  governing  the  nature  of  a 
beautiful  thing.  Most  of  the  eighteenth-century  critics 
seem  to  think  that  the  rules  of  Aristotle  are  like  the 
Ten  Commandments,  based  on  the  nature  of  right  and 
wrong.  Again,  it  is  not  the  author,  but  the  work,  that 
is  to  be  judged,  and  for  the  plays  Rowe  had  a  feeling 
of  generous  admiration. 

If  his  service  to  his  generation  lay  in  making  the  plays 
more  easily  accessible,  his  service  to  posterity  consists 
in  putting  in  print  all  the  information  about  the  man 
Shakespeare  he  could  procure.  In  the  latter  part  of  the 
seventeenth  century  the  actor,  Betterton,  whose  admir- 
able interpretations  of  Othello,  Hamlet,  and  the  rest, 
contributed  not  a  little  to  the  reputation  of  the  poet, 
went  to  Stratford  and  collected  all  the  local  tradition 
about  William  Shakespeare  that  had  survived.  Rowe,  in 


EARLY  EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  EDITORS    83 

his  sketch,  acknowledged  his  obligation  to  Betterton.  As 
a  playwright,  Rowe  knew  the  friends  of  Sir  William 
Davenant  (1606-68),  himself  playwright  and  dramatist, 
who  in  his  younger  days  must  have  known  the  actors 
and  playwrights  who  were  young  men  when  Shakespeare 
died.  Rowe  was  therefore  in  a  better  position  than  any 
writer  of  Shakespeare's  life  has  ever  been  to  find  out 
and  record  the  facts  bearing  on  the  personal  history 
and  character  of  the  great  dramatist.  That  he  found 
out  so  little  is  remarkable,  but  he  found  out  about  all 
that  we  know.  We  have  nothing  in  the  handwriting  of 
Shakespeare,  and  no  record  of  a  word  he  uttered.  From 
his  works  we  can  form  an  idea  of  his  character  as  an 
artist;  the  man  himself  remains  in  the  background. 
Rowe's  memoir  testifies  in  general  terms  to  his  agree- 
ableness  as  a  companion,  circumstances  testify  to  his 
success  as  a  man  of  business,  and  his  book  testifies  to 
his  greatness  as  a  poet  and  thinker,  and  there  is  a  hazy 
lot  of  evidence  tending  to  establish  his  personal  worth 
and  human  aberrations.  But  all  this  is  very  far  from 
biographical  matter;  so  that  Mr.  Sidney  Lee,  who 
knows  everything  that  has  been  collected,  is  forced  to 
begin  many  sentences  with  'perhaps '  or  '  probably,'  and, 
to  make  a  book,  must  fill  out  his  pages  with  literary 
biography.  What  was  Shakespeare's  attitude  towards 
religion  or  towards  the  great  religious  bodies  ?  We  can 
answer  only : '  Probably '  he  conformed  to  the  Established 
Church,  since  he  was  married  by  its  rite,  his  children 
were  baptized  into  its  communion,  and  he  was  buried 
in  the  parish  church.  So  it  is  in  regard  to  every  ques- 
tion that  would  disclose  Shakespeare's  personality.  In 
some  regards  he  '  probably '  was  a  very  reticent  person, 
though  '  perhaps '  superficially  companionable.  It  is 
sometimes  said  that  we  know  as  much  about  Shake- 
speare as  we  do  about  any  writer  of  his  period.  This  is 


84  SHAKESPEAKE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

an  error.  To  be  sure,  biographical  memoirs  were  not 
written  when  he  died.  But  we  can  construct  a  fairly 
full  biography  of  Ben  Jon  son,  John  Donne,  Herrick, 
Daniel,  and  others  of  his  period.  The  fact  that  the  man 
Shakespeare  is  far  back  in  the  obscurity  and  the  artist 
Shakespeare  the  centre  of  a  brilliant  light  is  one  of  the 
mysteries.  '  Perhaps '  all  papers,  letters,  and  the  like 
were  destroyed  in  the  great  fire  of  London.  But  why 
did  not  his  daughter,  Mrs.  Susanna  Hall,  preserve  a 
bundle  at  Stratford  and  transmit  them  to  her  daughter? 
'  Perhaps '  they  were  ashamed  of  his  calling  as  an  actor. 
It  is  all  conjectural,  though  biographers  usually  go  so 
far  as  to  say  '  no  doubt,  he  attended  the  grammar  school 
in  Stratford  like  any  other  town  boy.' 

We  are,  therefore,  much  obliged  to  Nicholas  Rowe  for 
gathering  what  tradition  he  could  and  refraining  from 
inventing  rumors  or  expanding  doubtful  hints. 

Rowe's  emendations,  as  said  above,  are  confined  to 
apparent  typographical  errors.  For  example,  in  The 
Tempest^  i,  ii,  Prospero  says  to  Miranda :  — 

[They]  bore  us  some  leagues  to  sea,  where  they  prepared 

A  rotten  carkasse  of  a  butt,  not  rigg'd, 

Nor  tackle,  sayle,  nor  mast,  the  very  rats 

Instinctively  have  quit  it  — 

Rowe  naturally  changed  '  butt '  to  '  boat,'  as  the  word 
'butt'  never  meant  boat,  but  only  large  barrel,  or  else 
object  aimed  at  (archery  butts),  or  (derivative)  end  of 
journey :  '  here  is  my  butt  and  very  sea-mark  of  my  ut- 
most sail '  (  Othello).  Respect  for  the  folio  and  the  con- 
viction that  Shakespeare  would  use  a  specific  word 
instead  of  a  general  one  leads  modern  commentators  to 
retain  '  butt '  and  to  invent  the  explanation  that  a  'butt ' 
was  a  kind  of  boat.  It  seems  more  likely  that  it  was  a 
misspelled  boat  than  that  it  was  an  obsolete  one.  But 
no  one  can  mistake  the  meaning. 


EARLY  EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  EDITORS    85 

In  his  literary  criticism  Rowe  shows  love  and  appre- 
ciation, though  naturally  falling  in  with  many  of  the 
errors  of  the  day.  He  says:  — 

The  plays  are  properly  to  be  distinguished  only  into  come- 
dies and  tragedies.  Those  which  are  called  histories  and 
even  some  of  his  comedies  are  really  tragedies  with  a  run  or 
mixture  of  comedy  through  them.  That  way  of  tragi-comedy 
was  the  common  mistake  of  the  age,  and  is  indeed  become  so 
agreeable  to  the  English  taste,  that  though  the  severer  critics 
among  us  cannot  bear  it,  yet  the  generality  of  our  audiences 
seem  to  be  better  pleased  with  it  than  with  an  exact  tragedy. 

In  calling  the  historic  plays  tragedies,  he  certainly 
forgets  for  the  moment  that  grand  pageant,  Henry  Fl 
The  idea  that  a  tragedy  must  be  '  pure,'  i.  e.jjree  from 
anything  that  could  rouse  a  smile  as  well  as  from  any 
representation  of  life  on  the  ordinary  plane,  and  from 
all  unheroic  language,  was  one  of  the  canons  of  criticism 
at  the  period.  J 

Among  the  characters  he  seems  to  have  been  the 
most  impressed  with  Falstaff  and  Shylock,  as  was  per- 
haps natural,  for  both  are  striking  in  different  ways ; 
and  the  greater  figures  —  Hamlet,  Othello,  Lear,  and 
Macbeth  —  have  a  profundity  in  their  relation  to  hu- 
man nature  not  so  easily  sounded.  Shakespeare's  super- 
natural characters  appeal  to  him,  and  he  says,  'Cer- 
tainly the  greatness  of  this  author's  genius  does  no- 
where so  much  appear  as  where  he  gives  his  imagina- 
tion an  entire  loose  rein  and  raises  his  fancy  above 
mankind  and  the  limits  of  the  visible  world.'  He  con- 
siders that  Shakespeare  is  not  strong  in  construction, 
and  explains  the  fact  by  saying  that  '  his  tales  were  sel- 
dom invented,  but  taken  from  true  history  or  novels  or 
romances,'  and  that  he  '  commonly  followed  the  authors 
from  whence  he  borrowed  them.'  The  sources  of  Shake- 
speare's plots  were  very  imperfectly  known  at  the  time, 


86  SHAKESPEARE   AND   HIS   CRITICS 

so  his  first  editor  could  not  be  aware  how  he  had 
informed  the  old  stories  with  human  interest  and  poetic 
value ;  but  there  is  a  modicum  of  truth  in  Howe's  stric- 
ture :  '  It  is  not  in  this  province  of  the  drama  that  the 
strength  and  mastery  of  Shakespeare  lay,  so  I  shall  not 
undertake  the  tedious  and  ill-natured  trouble  to  "point 
out  the  several  faults  he  was  guilty  of/  It  is  a  pity  that 
he  did  not,  for  it  would  be  interesting  to  know  how  the 
technical  art  of  the  great  dramatist  struck  a  fellow 
craftsman  who  was  also  an  accomplished  playwright. 

Personally,  Mr.  Howe  was  an  agreeable  man.  Pope 
was  much  attached  to  him,  and  in  one  of  his  letters,  1713, 
says :  '  There  is  a  vivacity  and  gaiety  of  disposition 
almost  peculiar  to  him,  which  renders  it  impossible  to 
part  from  him  without  the  uneasiness  and  chagrin  which 
generally  succeeds  all  great  pleasures.' 

A  second  edition  of  Rowe's  Shakespeare  was  called 
for  in  1714.  This  was  in  nine  volumes,  eleven  years  be- 
fore Pope's  edition  was  published.  He  died  in  1718,  in 
his  forty-second  year,  too  soon  to  take  part  in  the  lively 
war  of  words  inaugurated  in  1726  by  Theobald's  review 
of  Pope's  edition,  and  continued  with  brief  intermis- 
sions, while  ammunition  was  gathered,  till  the  end  of  the 
century. 

ALEXANDER  POPE  (1688-1744) 

It  is  a  tribute  to  the  universality  of  Shakespeare's 
genius  that  his  work  attracted  so  much  attention  in  the 
eighteenth  century,  for  it  was  an  age  the  spirit  of  which 
was  opposed  to  the  force  and  enthusiasm  of  his  method 
and  to  his  independence  of  classic  models.  It  was  an 
age  of  ordered  life  and  rational  conduct,  and  he,  as  a 
great  romanticist,  seems  to  have  been  guided  by  the  rule 
of  romance  that  *  from  rational  conduct  there  is  nothing 
to  be  expected  of  a  touching,  instructive,  or  amusing 


EARLY  EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  EDITORS    87 

nature.'  Lear  and  Hamlet  and  Macbeth  and  Othello 
are  not  prudent,  well-conducted  persons.  They  are  gov- 
erned by  irrational  emotions.  That  makes  them  interest- 
ing, even  when,  as  in  the  case  of  Macbeth,  the  emotions 
are  not  rooted  in  nobility  of  impulse.  The  plots  of 
Twelfth  Nighty  As  You  Like  It^  and  Midsummer 
NigMs  Dream  are  based  on  the  most  wildly  improbable 
incidents,  and  the  conduct  of  the  characters  is  entirely 
opposed  to  the  eighteenth-century  theory  of  life.  Never- 
theless, edition  after  edition  of  the  plays  was  called  for 
from  1709  to  1800,  and  the  two  chief  literary  men  of 
the  time,  Alexander  Pope  and  Samuel  Johnson,  are 
responsible  for  two  of  them.  They  undertook  a  task 
entirely  foreign  to  their  conception  of  literature,  and 
were  not  actuated  solely  by  the  desire  for  gain,  but  by 
the  sense  that  they  were  connecting  their  names  with  a 
far  greater  one.  Pope  writes  in  1722,  'I  am  very  busy 
in  doing  justice  to  a  far  greater  poet.' 

Pope  was  not  very  well  qualified  to  be  a  Shakespear- 
ean editor.  It  is  true  he  had  a  very  delicate  perception 
of  the  value  of  words,  and  a  trained  and  accurate  ear 
for  metre,  with  perhaps  a  better  perception  of  accent 
than  of  rhythm.  But  he  had  neither  the  health  nor  the 
patience  for  the  long  and  careful  work  necessary  to  the 
examination  of  the  original  texts,  nor  sufficient  mastery 
of  the  Elizabethan  vocabulary  to  guide  his  judgment. 
The  true  object  of  editing,  to  produce  a  text  as  near 
like  the  original  words  of  the  author  as  possible  and  to 
explain  obscure  passages  by  marginal  glossary  or  com- 
ment, was  not  at  all  understood  in  his  day.  The  aim 
was  to  modernize  the  text  by  emendation,  for  the  English 
speech  had  developed  so  rapidly  in  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury that  many  expressions  in  the  folio  were  as  obsolete 
then  as  they  are  now.  In  consequence  Pope  took  many 
unwarrantable  liberties,  and  thereby  laid  himself  open 


88  SHAKESPEARE  AND   HIS   CRITICS 

to  the  attacks  of  Theobald,  the  next  editor.  In  some 
instances  his  guesses  were  illuminating  and  ingenious. 
The  excellent  one  of  '  south '  for  '  sound,'  in  Twelfth 
Nighty  — 

O,  it  came  o'er  my  ear  like  the  sweet  sound 
That  breathes  upon  a  bank  of  violets, 
Stealing  and  giving  odour,  — 

has  already  been  referred  to.  In  the  same  play  (r, 
iii),  Sir  Andrew  says  of  his  leg:  'Ay,  't  is  strong  and 
does  indifferent  well  in  a  c?am?iC?-coloured  stock.'  Pope 
changed  this  to  'flame-coloured,'  and  the  emendation 
is  generally  accepted,  though  '  dun-coloured  '  has  been 
suggested  as  the  more  plausible  reading,  since  stockings 
of  that  color  are  mentioned  elsewhere.  But  Sir  Andrew 
was  such  a  vain  and  feather-headed  fool  that  conspicu- 
ous garments  for  his  legs  would  have  been  likely  to 
please  him. 

Another  of  Pope's  emendations  was  in  Henry  F/, 
Part  1,  V,  iv.  The  Duke  of  York  says :  — 

Speak,  Winchester ;  for  boiling  choler  chokes 
The  hollow  passage  of  my  poisoned  voice, 
By  sight  of  these,  our  baleful  enemies. 

Pope  changed  'poisoned'  to  'prisoned.'  This  involves 
the  substitution  of  but  one  vowel,  and  strikes  the  reader 
as  justifiable.  But  it  has  not  been  generally  accepted. 
York  has  been  worked  up  to  a  great  rage,  and  might 
by  a  bold  metaphor  speak  of  his  voice  as  '  poisoned,' 
i.  e.,  venomous  and  bitter,  though  he  might  also  say  that 
it  was  '  prisoned '  or  smothered  by  boiling  anger.  As 
we  can  get  a  meaning,  not  absurdly  forced,  out  of  the 
original,  we  must  let  it  stand. 

As  an  example  of  the  careful  consideration  necessary 


EARLY   EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY   EDITORS    89 

before  an  emendation  can  be  received,  take  the  dying 
speech  of  Juliet  in  the  folio :  — 

Yea,  noise  ?  then  I  '11  be  brief.  O  happy  [i.  6.,  fortunately 

found]  dagger! 
This  is  thy  sheath  (stabs  herself)  ;  there  rust  and  let  me  die. 

In  the  first  quarto  instead  of  *rust*  we  find  *rest.*  Pope, 
and  the  other  eighteenth-century  editors,  except  Steevens, 
give  '  rest.'  The  nineteenth-century  editors  prefer  rust. 
The  argument  is  that  the  first  quarto  was  an  unauthori- 
tative issue,  as  is  shown  by  its  many  imperfections ;  that 
the  second  quarto  is  evidently  from  a  better  copy  and 
most  likely  represents  the  play  from  the  author's  hand, 
and  that  'rust*  is  a  far  stronger  and  more  Shakespearean 
word  than  *  rest.*  This,  then,  is  a  case  just  on  the  divid- 
ing line  where  the  arguments  balance.  But  most  lovers 
of  Shakespeare  will  prefer  '  rust.* 

An  amusing  example  of  the  fact  that  the  verbal  pro- 
prieties of  one  age  may  be  quite  different  from  those 
of  another  is  given  by  an  emendation  Pope  made  in 
Romeo  and  Juliet*  The  bustling  and  cheery  host,  old 
Capulet,  says:  — 

Welcome,  gentlemen !  Ladies  that  have  their  toes 
Unplagued  with  corns  will  have  a  bout  with  you. 

Pope  changed  'toes'  to  *feet,*  on  the  ground  of  the  indeli- 
cacy of  the  word.  This,  in  an  age  that  could  stand 
Wycherley's  and  Congreve's  comedies,  where  the  entire 
plot  needs  emendation !  The  change  is  one  of  a  kind 
that  no  conscientious  editor  should  make,  because  the 
object  of  editing  is  to  give  us  the  text  as  it  was,  not  as 
anybody  thinks  it  ought  to  be.  The  rule  is,  alter  no 
word  of  the  old  copies  unless  it  yields  no  meaning  and 
is  plainly  a  misprint,  and  the  substituted  word  is  justi- 
fied by  the  context  or  by  the  ordinary  rules  of  proof- 


90  SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS   CRITICS 

correcting.  For  instance,  in  Romeo  and  Juliet^  v,  1, 
Romeo  says  to  the  apothecary :  — 

I  pray  thy  poverty  and  not  thy  will. 

As  he  immediately  gives  the  apothecary  some  money, 
'pray'  is  properly  changed  to  'pay.'  Were  it  not  for  the 
accompanying  action,  the  reading  of  the  folio  would 
have  to  stand.  Even  so,  it  is  not  absolutely  certain  that 
Shakespeare  did  not  write  'pray.'  The  substitution  in- 
volving the  erasure  of  a  single  letter  is  barely  justified. 
But  the  first  editors  of  the  eighteenth  century  thought 
that  they  had  a  right  to  improve  the  text  by  guessing, 
and  frequently  made  ludicrous  mistakes. 

Pope's  preface  is  a  good  piece  of  work.^  He  takes 
the  ground  so  generally  held  in  the  eighteenth  century 
that  the  poet  was  an  untutored  genius,  owing  every- 
thing to  nature,  nothing  to  art,  and  that  he  is  *  justly 
and  universally  elevated  above  all  other  dramatic  writ- 
ers for  his  characteristic  excellences  notwithstanding 
his  defects.^  He  is  impressed  by  the  individuality  of 
the  characters :  — 

His  characters  are  so  much  nature  herself  that  it  is  a  sort 
of  injury  to  call  them  by  so  distant  a  name  as  copies  of  her. 

Every  single  character  in  Shakespeare  is  as  much  an  in- 
dividual as  those  in  life  itself ;  it  is  as  impossible  to  find  any 
two  alike ;  and  such  as  from  their  relation  or  affinity  in  any 
respect  appear  most  to  be  twins,  will,  upon  comparison,  be 
found  remarkably  distinct.  To  this  life  and  variety  of  char- 
acters we  must  add  the  wonderful  preservation  of  it ;  which 
is  such  throughout  his  plays  that  had  all  the  speeches  been 
printed  without  the  very  names  of  the  persons,  I  beHeve  one 
might  have  applied  them  with  certainty  to  every  speaker. 

^  The  introductions  of  Rowe,  Pope,  Johnson,  Steevens,  Capell, 
and  Malone  can  be  conveniently  come  at  either  in  Malone's  Vari- 
orum Edition  or  in  Eighteenth  Century  Shakespearean  Essays  or 
in  Famous  Introductions  to  Shakespeare's  Plays. 


EARLY   EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  EDITORS    91 

This  power  did  not  enable  Pope  to  correct  the  misap- 
plication of  speeches,  or,  at  least,  he  did  not  exert  it. 
He  speaks  of  Shakespeare's  power  of  rousing  our  feel- 
ings whether  of  amusement  or  sympathy,  of  his  'just- 
ness of  distinction '  and  '  extent  of  comprehension  when 
he  treats  of  ethic  or  politic ' ;  he  notices  that  '  not  only 
the  spirit,  but  manners  of  the  Romans  are  exactly 
drawn,  and  still  a  nicer  distinction  is  shown  between 
the  manners  in  the  time  of  Julius  Caesar  and  Coriola- 
nus.'  He  vindicates  Shakespeare's  acquaintance  with 
literature,  and  says  '  there  is  a  vast  difference  between 
learning  and  languages.'  He  thinks  he  made  use  of 
Chaucer  in  Troilus  and  Cressida,  an  opinion  which 
will  hardly  be  shared  by  any  one  who  has  noticed  the 
profound  difference  between  the  characterization  of 
Cressida  in  Chaucer's  poem  and  in  that  singular  med- 
ley of  irony,  cynicism,  and  philosophy,  called  Troi- 
lus and  Cressida  in  the  First  Folio.  He  says  very 
justly:  — 

I  make  no  doubt  to  declare  that  those  wretched  plays 
Pericles,  Locrine,  Sir  John  Oldcastle,  Yorkshire  Tragedy, 
Lord  Cromwell,  The  Puritan,  and  London  Prodigal,  and  a 
thing  called  The  Double  Falsehood  cannot  be  admitted  as 
his,  if  I  may  judge  from  all  the  distinguishing  marks  of  his 
style  and  his  manner  of  thinking  and  writing. 

In  this  modern  criticism  would  sustain  him,  except 
as  to  parts  of  Pericles.  Unfortunately  Pope  lessens  our 
admiration  of  his  literary  judgment  by  adding:  — 

And  I  should  conjecture  of  some  of  the  others  (particu- 
larly Love's  Labour 's  Lost,  The  Winter's  Tale,  Comedy  of 
Errors,  and  Titus  Andronicus),  that  only  some  characters, 
single  scenes,  or,  perhaps,  a  few  particular  passages  were  of 
his  hand. 

Love's  Labour '«  Lost  is  as  plainly  by  the  youthful 


92  SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

Shakespeare  as  Winter's  Tale  is  by  the  Shakespeare 
who  had  developed  into  the  master-poet. 

He  errs,  too,  in  considering  that  Shakespeare  wrote 
for  unrefined  audiences,  because  the  theatre  at  Black- 
friars,  at  least,  was  frequented  by  audiences  above  the 
average  of  the  day  in  cultivation  and  appreciation, 
audiences  every  way  superior  to  those  that  heard  Dry- 
den's  and  Congreve's  plays,  because  they  were  drawn 
from  a  superior  England,  and  came  to  see  more  natural 
and  poetic  plays.  Of  course  no  eighteenth-century  lit- 
erary man  could  admit  this  for  an  instant,  and  it  must 
be  reckoned  to  Pope's  credit  that  he  says :  — 

With  all  his  faults  and  with  all  the  irregularity  of  his 
drama,  one  may  look  upon  his  works  in  comparison  with 
those  that  are  more  finished  and  regular  as  upon  an  ancient 
majestic  piece  of  Gothic  architecture  compared  with  a  neat 
modern  building ;  the  latter  is  more  elegant  and  glaring,  but 
the  former  is  more  strong  and  more  solemn.  It  must  be  al- 
lowed that  in  one  of  these  there  are  materials  enough  to  make 
many  of  the  other.  It  has  much  the  greater  variety  and  much 
the  nobler  apartments,  though  we  are  often  conducted  to 
them  by  dark,  odd,  and  uncouth  passages.  Nor  does  the  whole 
fail  to  strike  us  with  greater  reverence,  though  many  of  the 
parts  are  childish,  ill-placed,  and  unequal  to  its  grandeur. 

Pope  adopted  the  singular  device  of  '  distinguishing 
the  most  shining  passages  by  commas  in  the  margins, 
and  where  the  beauty  lay,  not  in  the  particulars  but 
in  the  whole,  a  star  is  prefixed  to  the  scene.'  This  is 
'  sign-board  criticism,'  pure  and  simple,  and  must  have 
been  rather  irritating  to  those  whose  favorite  passages 
were  not  starred.  As  he  says,  he  '  has  rather  given  a 
proof  of  his  willingness  than  of  his  ability  to  do  his 
author  justice.' 

No  one  man  could  accomplish  the  immense  labor 
necessary  to  establishing  a  standard  text,  and  Pope  is 


EARLY  EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  EDITORS    93 

entitled  to  our  thanks  if  he  did  little  more  than  call 
attention  to  the  necessity  for  the  task.  As  Shakespeare 
belongs  to  the  world,  the  true  reading  must  be  decided 
by  a  world- jury.  A  certain  conjectural  emendation 
occurs  to  an  editor,  and  he  at  once  becomes  an  advo- 
cate for  his  guess.  Before  it  is  received  it  must  be  de- 
liberated on  by  those  who  feel  no  personal  interest  in 
that  particular  reading.  The  consensus  of  many  minds 
must  be  had,  and  the  proper  limitations  of  conjecture 
established  before  we  have  the  Cambridge  Edition.  The 
task  is  too  great  for  one  man,  even  were  he  especially 
fitted  for  it. 

Pope  adopted  also  the  entirely  unjustifiable  plan  of 
striking  out  entire  passages  that  seemed  to  him  unwor- 
thy of  the  author.  This,  as  much  as  anything  else,  led 
to  the  supersession  of  his  edition,  after  two  issues,  by 
that  of  his  successor  and  critic,  Lewis  Theobald.  He 
also  amended  the  metre  in  many  cases  in  accordance 
with  his  own  feeling  for  rhythm.  This  should  never  be 
done  unless  the  change  is  justifiable  on  other  grounds. 
In  As  You  Like  It  Oliver  describes  himself  as  found 
sleeping  by  Orlando  — 

Under  an  old  oak  whose  boughs  were  mossed  with  age 
And  high  top  bald  with  dry  antiquity. 

Here  the  word  old  is  superfluous  to  the  metre  and 
tautological.  Its  insertion  is  an  error  the  compositor 
might  easily  fall  into.  It  was  properly  stricken  out  by 
Steevens.  But  most  of  Pope's  emendations  of  this  sort 
are  rejected. 

Pope's  underhand  efforts  to  discredit  Theobald,  the 
next  editor,  have  been  brought  to  light  by  the  careful 
researches  of  Professor  Lounsbury  in  The  Text  of 
Shakespeare.  Pope's  inveteracy  and  subtlety  and  un- 
truthfulness are  incomprehensible,  and  the  man  himself 


» 

94  SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS   CRITICS 

is  a  more  extraordinary  compound  than  any  of  Shake- 
speare's characters.  He  did  Theobald  harm,  but  in  the 
end  has  done  himself  far  more. 

LEWIS  THEOBALD   (1688-1744) 

Theobald  was  born  a  month  earlier  than  Pope  and 
died  three  months  later.  He  was  trained  for  an  attorney, 
but  chose  a  literary  life  and  was  not  very  successful  as 
a  poet  or  dramatist,  though  he  was  an  industrious  stu- 
dent and  became  in  some  respects  a  learned  man.  In 
1726  he  published  a  review  of  Pope's  edition,  entitled 
in  the  voluminous  language  of  the  day,  '  Shakespeare 
Restored,  or  Specimens  of  the  many  Errors  as  well 
Committed  as  Unamended  by  Mr.  Pope,  designed  not 
only  to  correct  the  same  edition,  but  to  restore  the  true 
reading  of  Shakespeare  in  all  the  editions  ever  yet  pub- 
lished.' Pope,  who  was  a  sensitive  and  rather  waspish 
person,  did  not  take  this  in  very  good  part,  and  re- 
venged himself  personally  by  making  Theobald  the  hero 
of  the  first  edition  of  the  Dunciad  (1728).  In  1733 
Theobald  brought  out  an  edition  of  the  plays,  in  which 
he  retorted  on  Pope  with  great  effect.  This  was  the  be- 
ginning of  the  Shakespeare  controversy  lasting  through 
the  eighteenth  century,  in  which  each  editor  attacked 
some  of  his  predecessors  with  lively  personalities.  Our 
eighteenth-century  ancestors,  though  dignified  and  even 
pompous  in  their  manners,  relieved  the  tedium  of  life 
by  a  boyish  explosiveness  of  language  when  they  were 
irritated.  They  did  not  sneer  in  a  superior  manner,  as 
we  do,  but  indulged  in  hearty  scolding  and  calling  of 
names,  which  gave  their  opponents  a  chance  to  get  even, 
unless  they  were  very  poorly  gifted.  This  practice  no 
doubt  contributed  to  the  'gayety  of  nations,'  but  seems 
to  us  very  bad  manners.  One  of  the  mildest  of  their 
phrases  was  to  remark  that  their  opponent's  work  was 


EARLY   EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY   EDITORS    95 

*  a  tissue  of  mere  dotage  which  scarcely  deserves  un- 
raveling.' This  is  in  refreshing  contrast  to  the  trickle 
of  lukewarm  praise  with  which  our  literary  periodicals 
'  notice '  each  new  book. 

Theobald  was  in  reality  the  first '  Shakespeare  scholar,' ' 
and,  as  he  says,  his  book  is  '  the  first  Essay  of  literal 
Criticism  upon  any  author  in  the  English  tongue.'  He  ^ 
made  intelligent  use  of  the  quartos,  and  when  we  re- 
member how  meagre  was  his  *  apparatus  criticus  *  —  no 
concordance,  a  most  imperfect  glossary,  no  aid  from 
others  except  what  he  could  gather  from  conversation 
with  the  '  ingenious  Dr.  Thirlby '  or  the  *  accurate  Mr. 
Hughes,'  we  must  admire  his  acuteness  and  ability.  His 
memory  must  have  been  very  strong,  for,  having  occa- 
sion to  illustrate  Shakespeare's  use  of  a  noun  for  a  verb, 
as  '  knee  his  throne,'  '  history  his  loss,'  and  the  like,  he 
adduces  instances  from  fourteen  different  plays,  and 
says  he  '  could  stretch  out  the  catalogue  to  a  great  ex- 
tent.' He  says  he  could  bring  a  great  number  of  exam- 
ples of  the  reduplication  of  words,  like  '  that  father  lost^ 
lost  his,'  but  that  he  can  remember  but  five  off-hand. 
He  illustrates  Shakespeare's  use  of  '  whirling '  and 
'  warrant '  and  several  other  words  with  the  same  copi- 
ous and  ready  citations.  Many  of  his  emendations  of  I 
Pope's  edition  are  sanctioned  by  modern  authority.  He  I 
is  not  always  in  the  right,  —  who  could  be  in  194  pages 
of  new  matter,  involving  many  minute  points  ?  He  says 
of  the  words  of  Claudius  to  Voltimand  and  Cornelius: 

And  we  here  dispatch 
You,  good  Cornelius,  and  you,  Voltimand, 
For  Bearers  of  this  Greeting, 

that  '  the  word  For  should  be  Owr,  as  giving  the  ad- 
dress a  more  kingly  tone.'  Here,  of  course,  Theobald 
was  wrong,  but  the  canon,  '  Never  change  the  words  of 


96  SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

the  folio  when  sense  can  be  extracted  from  the  original,' 
had  not  been  established. 

It  is  in  this  book  that  he  suggested  the  famous 
emendation  in  Dame  Quickly's  description  of  Falstaff's 
death,  from  '  a  table  of  green  frieze  '  to  '  a  [he]  babbled 
of  green  fields.'  Theobald  says  that  in  the  margin  of  a 
copy  of  the  plays  belonging  to  a  deceased  friend  the 
word  talked  was  suggested  for  tahle^  but  that  he  thinks 
*  babbled '  nearer  the  true  reading. 

He  is  not  so  fortunate  in  his  attempts  to  correct  the 
metre  of  the  original,  a  proceeding  rarely  warranted, 
and  the  cause  of  ridiculous  mistakes  by  some  of  his 
successors,  especially  when  they  attempted  to  fill  every 
line  out  to  five  feet.  Shakespeare's  short  lines  frequently 
come  in  with  admirable  rhythmical  effect,  and,  even  if 
they  did  not,  it  is  sacrilegious  to  attempt  to  patch  them. 
In  correcting  the  pointing  Theobald's  work  is  usually 
excellent,  for  he  had  a  very  clear  idea  of  the  relation  of 
clauses.  The  punctuation  of  the  early  copies  was  largely 
the  work  of  the  printers,  and  has  no  sacrosanct  char- 
acter. 

The  body  of  Theobald's  book  is  taken  up  with  a  con- 
sideration of  Hamlet^  but  in  a  closely  printed  appendix 
of  nearly  equal  length  he  considers  passages  from  some 
twenty  other  plays.  He  is  rather  too  ingenious  in  some 
of  his  conjectural  readings,  but  far  less  inclined  to 
guesswork  than  many  of  his  successors.  His  strictures 
on  Pope  do  not  pass  much  beyond  the  bounds  of  cour- 
tesy, at  least,  of  critical  courtesy.  In  the  introduction 
he  writes :  — 

I  have  so  great  an  esteem  for  Mr.  Pope,  and  so  high  an 
opinion  of  his  genius  and  excellencies,  that  I  beg  to  be  excused 
from  the  least  intention  of  derogating  from  his  merits,  in  this 
attempt  to  restore  the  true  reading  of  Shakespeare.  Tho'  I 
confess  a  veneration,  almost  rising  to  idolatry,  for  the  writings 


EARLY   EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  EDITORS    97 

of  this  inimitable  poet,  I  would  be  very  loth  even  to  do  him 
justice  at  the  expense  of  that  other  gentleman's  character. 
But  I  am  persuaded,  I  shall  stand  as  free  from  such  a  charge 
in  the  execution  of  this  design,  as  I  am  sure  in  the  intention 
of  it,  for  I  am  assuming  a  task  here,  which  this  learned  editor 
seems  purposely  (I  was  going  to  say,  with  too  nice  a  scruple) 
to  have  declined. 

In  the  body  of  the  book  he  says :  — 

There  are  many  passages  of  such  intolerable  carelessness 
interspersed  thro'  all  the  six  volumes,  that  were  not  a  few  of 
Mr.  Pope's  notes  scattered  here  and  there  too,  I  should  be 
induced  to  believe  that  the  words  on  the  title-page  of  the  first 
volume  —  collated  and  corrected  by  the  former  editions,  by 
Mr.  Pope  —  were  placed  there  by  the  Bookseller  to  enhance 
the  credit  of  his  edition ;  but  that  he  had  played  false  with 
his  editors  and  never  sent  him  the  sheets  to  revise.  .  .  . 

I  shall  leave  these  conjectural  readings  to  the  arbitrament 
of  better  judgments.  But  I  think  I  may  with  modesty  affirm 
every  one  of  them  to  be  more  just,  and  better  grounded  than 
that  espoused  by  the  Editor.  .  .  . 

We  have  already,  in  the  course  of  these  Remarks,  con- 
versed with  a  Place  or  two  which  have  given  reason  to  pre- 
sume, that  if  corrected  at  all,  they  could  be  corrected  only 
by  the  servants  at  the  press.  Here  again  is  a  passage  so  con- 
fused, and  so  indiscriminately  printed  that  it  furnishes  a  strong 
suspicion  of  never  having  been  revised  by  the  Editor.  Could 
so  nice  a  judge  as  Mr.  Pope  pass  over  such  absurd  stuff  as  is 
jumbled  here  together,  and  not  observe  a  fault  that  is  so  plain 
and  palpable  ?  Correct  it  with  all  the  editions  that  I  have  ever 
seen  except  the  Quartos  of  1637  and  1703,  in  which  the  text 
is  likewise  shuffled  and  faulty. 

There  is  nothing  in  this  undeserved  nor  offensively 
personal,  but  Pope  was  enraged  and  mortified,  and  re- 
venged himself,  as  said  before,  by  making  Theobald 
the  hero  of  the  first  edition  of  the  Dunciad  (1728),  and 
by  trying  to  injure  him  and  prevent  the  sale  of  his  edi- 


98  SHAKESPEARE  AND   HIS   CRITICS 

tion  in  every  underhand  way.  In  the  edition  of  1743 
he  gave  the  place  of  dishonor  to  CoUey  Gibber,  as  little 
of  a  dunce  as  Theobald,  retaining  the  first  disparaging 
references  to  '  poor  piddling  Tibbalds.'  Men  like  Pope, 
Swift,  and  Prior  were  very  disdainful  of  hack  writers 
like  Defoe,  Dennis,  and  Theobald,  who  made  a  trade 
of  letters,  and  did  not  regard  them  as  technically  gentle- 
men, though  they  themselves  were  not  at  all  averse  to 
receiving  pay  for  the  productions  of  their  pens.  Pope 
even  went  so  far  as  to  endeavor  to  prevent  the  pub- 
lisher, Tonson,  from  bringing  out  Theobald's  edition 
two  years  later.  This  seems  very  petty,  as  the  privilege 
of  printing  Pope's  writings  was  valuable  to  Tonson, 
and  Theobald  was  poor.  Tonson  excused  himself  by  the 
plea  that  he  was  committed  with  others  and  could  not 
withdraw. 

Theobald's  edition  in  six  volumes  came  out  in  1733. 
In  the  seven  years  since  the  publication  of  Shakespeare 
Restored  he  had  become  a  more  thorough  critic,  and 
the  publication  of  the  Dunciad  had  given  him  just  cause 
for  indignation.  He  was  not  in  the  least  cowed,  and 
attacks  Pope  in  a  lively  manner.  A  few  extracts  will 
show  that  the  war  is  on  :  — 

The  editors  [Rowe  and  Pope]  in  their  sagacity  have  mur- 
dered a  joke  changing  Slender's  (Meri'y  Wives)  words  from 
*  I  hope  upon  familiarity  will  grow  more  contempt  *  to  '  grow 
more  content,'  thereby  disarming  the  sentiment  of  all  its  salt 
and  humor  and  disappointing  the  audience  of  a  reasonable 
cause  of  laughter.  .  .  . 

The  former  editors  content  themselves  with  words  with- 
out any  reference  to  meaning.  .  .  . 

Mr.  Pope  follows  Mr.  Rowe's  edition  in  his  errors  and 
omissions.  It  gives  great  suspicion  that  Mr.  Pope  for  the 
generality  took  Mr.  Rowe's  edition  for  his  guide.  .  .  . 

*  Troubles  thee  o'er  *  {Tempest)  is  a  foolish  reading,  which 


EARLY  EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  EDITORS    99 

I  believe  first  got  birth  in  Mr.  Pope's  two  editions  of  our 
poet,  and  I  dare  say  will  be  buried  there  in  a  proper  obscur- 
ity. *  Trebles  thee  o'er '  is  the  proper  reading.  .  .  . 

These  two  mere  poetical  editors  can  do  nothing  towards  an 
emendation,  even  when  it  is  chalked  out  to  their  hands.  .  .  . 

This  scene  {Taming  of  the  Shrew)  Mr.  Pope,  upon  what 
authority  J  cannot  guess,  has  made  the  first  of  the  fifth  Act. 
The  consequence  is  that  two  unpardonable  absurdities  are 
fixed  upon  the  author  which  he  could  not  possibly  have  com- 
mitted. If  such  a  critick  be  fit  to  publish  a  stage-writer,  I 
shall  not  envy  Mr.  Pope's  admirers  if  they  applaud  his  sa- 
gacity. 

Of  Mallet,  a  defender  of  Pope,  he  says :  — 

I  may  fairly  say  of  this  author  as  Falstaff  does  of  Poins, 
*  Hang  him,  babboon  !  his  wit  is  as  thick  as  Tewksbury  mus- 
tard. There  is  no  more  conceit  [Judgment]  in  him  than  is  in 
a  mallet ! ' 

In  the  end  of  the  last  volume  he  has  an  extraordin- 
ary lot  of  indexes,  the  final  one  being  a  list  of  editions 
divided  into  three  classes :  first,  those  *  of  prime  author- 
ity,'—  the  folios  and  quartos  before  1623;  second, 
those  '  of  middle  authority,' —  the  third  folios  and  the 
quartos  printed  after  the  First  Folio ;  third,  '  those  of 
no  authority,  —  Mr.  Rowe's  and  Mr.  Pope's  editions.' 

Theobald's  edition  of  six  octavo  volumes  soon  dis- 
placed its  predecessors,  for  intelligent  men  could  not 
help  seeing  that  there  vras  more  intelligent  work  in  it. 
Of  his  many  emendations,  nearly  one  thousand,  as  large 
a  proportion  are  received  to  this  day  as  could  be  ex- 
pected. 

When  Rosalind  is  entering  the  Forest  of  Arden  the 
folio  makes  her  say,  '  O,  Jupiter,  how  merry  are  my 
spirits.'  Theobald  made  the  change  of '  merry '  to '  weary,'  ^ 

*  Dr.  Furness  contends  adroitly  for  the  retention  of  '  merry,'  but 
it  is  not  likely  that  he  will  find  many  adherents  in  one  of  the  very 


100        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS   CRITICS 

which  is  evidently  correct  from  the  next  speech  of 
Touchstone.  '  I  care  not  for  my  spirits,  if  my  legs  were 
not  weary ^ 

In  the  same  play,  however,  he  makes  two  very  inept 
corrections,  the  first  and  most  extraordinary  on  the 
suggestion  of  Warburton.  Rosalind  says  of  Orlando, 
'His  kissing  is  as  full  of  sanctity  as  the  touch  of 
holy  bread,''  Warburton  thought  this  should  be  '  holy 
heard^  Warburton  was  a  clergyman,  and  thought  that 
to  refer  to  'holy  bread'  was  sacrilegious,  but  that  a 
critic  of  the  acuteness  of  Theobald  should  agree  with 
him  is  incomprehensible.  But  in  the  same  play  he 
makes  almost  as  absurd  a  suggestion  :  — 

Celia,  He  hath  bought  a  pair  of  cast  lips  of  Diana. 

Theobald  says  '  cast '  means  '  cast  off,'  or  second-hand. 
The  word  is  so  plainly  the  Latin  form  of  'chaste'  — 
castus  —  that  it  is  inconceivable  that  a  scholar  like 
Theobald  should  fail  to  perceive  it. 

In  the  Merchant  of  Venice  Lorenzo  says  of  music :  — 

Such  harmony  is  in  immortal  souls ; 
But  whilst  this  muddy  vesture  of  decay 
Doth  grossly  close  it  in,  we  cannot  hear  it. 

Theobald  changed  'souls'  to  'sounds,'  missing  the  poetry 
of  the  lines.  Such  misconceptions  are  rare  with  him, 
however,  and  in  many  cases  he  displays  a  power  which 
may  be  called  divination.  No  editor  has  ever  surpassed 
him  in  so  altering  an  incomprehensible  passage  that 
we  say  at  once,  '  That  is  what  Shakespeare  wrote.' 

In  appreciation  of  lyric  poetry  Mr.  Theobald  is 
weak.    In  Ariel's  fairy  song  — 

few  cases  when  his  judgment  does  not  command  instant  agree- 
ment. Even  the  ultra-conservative  editors  of  the  Globe  Edition 
sanction  'weary.' 


EARLY  EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  EJt)lYffRS    101 

Where  the  bee  sucks,  there  suck  I : 

In  a  cowslip's  bell  I  lie,  ... 
On  the  bat's  back  I  do  fly 
After  summer  merrily. 
Merrily,  merrily,  shall  I  live  now 
Under  the  blossom  that  hangs  on  the  bough  — 

he  changes '  summer '  to '  sunset '  and  *  suck '  to '  lurk.'  This 
is  entirely  unjustifiable,  not  to  say  impertinent.  It  is 
prosaic  and  spoils  the  music.  Theobald  says  he  changes 
*  summer'  to  'sunset' '  from  the  known  nature  of  the  bat.' 
But  can  you  hold  a  great  poet  in  a  moment  of  inspira- 
tion responsible  for  the  habits  of  so  nondescript  an 
animal  as  the  bat?  He  says  that  -fairies  do  not  such 
honey,  whereas  they  do  lurk.  No  man  can  argue  about 
the  habits  of  fairies  with  William  Shakespeare,  who 
learned  all  about  them  when  he  was  a  country  boy, 
and  'Queen  Mab  was  with  him.' 

Theobald's  preface  ^  shows  him  an  ardent  admirer 
of  the  poet.  He  says ;  —  ^.^ 

If  his  diction  and  the  clothing  of  his  thoughts  attract  us, 
how  much  more  must  we  be  charmed  with  the  richness  and 
variety  of  his  images  and  ideas!  If  his  images  and  ideas 
steal  into  our  souls  and  strike  upon  our  fancy,  how  much 
are  they  improved  in  price  when  we  come  to  reflect  with 
what  propriety  and  justness  they  are  applied  to  character ! 
If  we  look  into  his  characters  and  how  they  are  furnished 
and  proportioned  to  the  employment  he  cuts  out  for  them, 
how  are  we  taken  up  with  the  mastery  of  his  portraits.' 
What  draughts  of  nature !  What  variety  of  originals,  and 
how  different  each  from  the  other !  How  are  they  dressed 
from  the  stores  of  his  own  luxurious  imagination,  without 
being  the  apes  of  mode,  or  borrowing  from  any  foreign 
wardrobe ! 

Theobald  adds  little  to  the  life  of  Shakespeare  ;  his 
^  Reference  is  had  to  the  preface  to  the  second  edition  (1740). 


102        SfflKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

researches  did  not  lie  in  that  direction.  He  says :  '  As 
I  have  never  proposed  to  dilate  further  on  the  char- 
acter of  my  author  than  was  necessary  to  explain  the 
nature  and  use  of  this  edition,  1  shall  proceed  to  con- 
sider him  as  a  genius  in  possession  of  an  everlasting 
fame.'  That  is  about  all  an  eighteenth-century  critic 
could  do.  His  task  was  to  settle,  or  to  help  to  settle, 
the  correct  reading.  To  us  the  more  interesting  ques- 
tion is,  why  is  he  'in  possession  of  an  everlasting 
fame '  ?  Why,  in  an  age  full  of  men  of  facile  talent, 
when  plays  were  at  once  salable  and  a  shrewd  old  fox 
of  business  like  Philip  Henslowe  was  ready  to  buy 
them  for  cash,  and  at  least  forty  young  men  had  the 
knack  of  writing  plays,  some  four  hundred  of  which 
have  survived  to  our  time,  —  why  in  such  an  age  were 
no  other  plays  produced  which  are  in  a  class  with  the 
fifteen  or  sixteen  of  Shakespeare's  best  ones?  Why 
is  it  that  of  the  hundred  thousand  men  in  our  country 
who  can  quote  long  passages  from  his  plays  and  read 
some  of  them  every  year  or  so,  not  more  than  twenty- 
five  could  give  the  plot  of  an  Elizabethan  play  not 
his  ?  The  rest  may  possibly  be  able  to  recall  the  names 
of  one  or  more  of  his  contemporaries  —  useless  lumber 
stored  during  student  days  to  be  ejected  as  soon  as 
possible.  Why  is  it  that  audiences  will  listen  with  in- 
terest to  certain  plays  written  three  hundred  years  ago, 
when  they  would  not  for  an  instant 

/^  brook  a  line  . 

Of  tedious  though  well-laboured  Catiline  ? 

Where  is  the  difference  which  causes  such  opposite 
effects  ?  This  is  the  interesting  question  to  us,  but  it 
was  not  approached  till  the  days  of  Coleridge.  Gen- 
eralities as  to  diction,  images,  characters,  such  as  are 
suggested  by  Theobald,  are  not  explanations  or  ana- 


EARLY  EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  EDITORS    103 

lyses.  They  only  push  the  question  one  step  further 
back  and  take  it  for  granted  that  Shakespeare  is  *  the 
possessor  of  an  everlasting  fame,'  which  indeed  was 
self-evident. 

The  same  inadequacy  of  judgment  is  evident  when 
Theobald  speaks  of  the  everlasting  question  of  nature 
and  art  applied  to  a  poet.  To  his  generation  art  meant 
following  certain  rules  of  construction  and  observing 
certain  canons  of  taste.  The  nature  of  art  was  not  in 
the  least  understood,  and  so  they  speak  of  one  of  the 
greatest  artists  in  the  world  as  'lacking  art.'  They 
sometimes  confounded  art  and  learning,  for  a  poet  who 
did  not  imitate  the  technic  of  the  ancients  was  supposed 
to  be  '  without  art.' 

Theobald  lays  down  an  excellent  rule  when  he  says :  — 

Wherever  the  author's  sense  is  clear  and  discoverable 
(though  perchance  low  and  trivial),  I  have  not  by  any  inno- 
vation tampered  with  his  text,  out  of  an  ostentation  of  en- 
deavoring to  make  him  speak  better  than  the  old  copies  have 
done. 

He  deviated  from  this  rule  sometimes,  but  some  of 
his  successors  ignored  it  completely,  and  others  could 
not  see  where  '  the  sense  was  clear  and  discoverable.' 

He  pays  his  compliments  to  Pope  from  time  to 
time :  — 

Mr.  Pope  pretended  to  have  collated  the  old  copies,  and 
yet  seldom  has  corrected  the  text  but  to  his  injury.  I  con- 
gratulate with  the  manes  of  our  poet,  that  this  gentleman  has 
been  sparing  in  indulging  his  private  sense,  as  he  phrases  it ; 
for  he  who  tampers  with  an  author  whom  he  does  not  under- 
stand, must  do  it  at  the  expense  of  his  subject.  .  .  . 

Mr.  Pope,  like  a  most  obsequious  editor,  has  taken  the  pas- 
sage upon  content  and  followed  the  track  of  stupidity.  .  .  . 

It  is  not  with  any  secret  pleasure  that  I  so  frequently 
animadvert  on  Mr.  Pope  as  a  critick,  but  there  are  provoca- 


104        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS   CRITICS 

tions  which  a  man  can  never  quite  forget.  His  libels  have 
been  thrown  out  with  so  much  inveteracy,  that,  not  to  dis- 
pute whether  they  should  come  from  a  Christian,  they  leave 
it  a  question  whether  they  could  come  from  a  man.  .  .  .  The 
indignation  for  being  represented  as  a  blockhead  may  be  as 
strong  in  us  as  it  is  in  the  ladies  for  a  reflection  on  their 
beauties.  It  is  certain,  I  am  indebted  to  him  for  some  flagrant 
civilities,  and  I  shall  willingly  devote  a  part  of  my  life  to  the 
honest  endeavor  of  quitting  scores:  with  this  exception, 
however,  that  I  will  not  return  these  civilities  in  his  proper 
strain,  but  confine  myself,  at  least,  to  the  limits  of  common 
decency. 

Fortunately  for  Pope,  Theobald's  satirical  powers 
were  not  as  highly  developed  as  his  own.  Theobald  had 
sufficient  advantage  in  knowledge  of  his  subject,  in- 
dustry in  collecting  the  evidence  for  both  sides  of  a  dis- 
puted reading,  and  enough  sagacity  to  form  an  opinion, 
usually  a  correct  one.  It  is  unfortunate  that  he  did  not 
ignore  Pope  altogether  and  devote  himself  entirely  to 
Shakespearean  criticism.  However,  it  may  be  that  lit- 
erary quarrels  call  the  attention  of  the  public  to  the 
subject.  The  eighteenth-century  personalities  may  have 
given  a  zest  to  the  study  of  Shakespeare,  which  it  lacks 
in  these  days  of  decorum  and  indifference.  Still,  there 
can  be  little  doubt  that  the  sneers  of  Pope  and  his 
friends  at  textual  criticism,  as  the  petty  employment 
of  dull  and  plodding  minds,  was  of  material  injury 
to  Theobald,  and  retarded  the  work  of  settling  the 
proper  reading  of  the  text,  which  he  did  so  much  to 
further. 


SIR  THOMAS  HANMER  (1667-1746) 

Sir  Thomas  Hanmer,  the  next  editor  of  Shakespeare, 
was  a  man  of  family  and  position,  and  the  Speaker  of 
the  House  of  Commons  from  1714  to  1727.  He  pos- 


EARLY  EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  EDITORS    105 

sessed  excellent  abilities,  and  took  to  annotating  the  ! 
plays  for  his  own  pleasure.  In  1744  be  brought  out  a 
very  beautiful  edition  of  Shakespeare's  works  in  six  vol- 
umes, under  the  auspices  of  the  University  of  Oxford. 
It  is  commonly  known  as  the  Oxford  Edition,  and  may 
be  regarded  as  the  admission  of  the  great  poet  among 
the  classics  by  the  learned  world,  though  the  contention 
that  he  was  a  barbaric  and  uncultured  genius  was  not 
terminated  for  some  years.  It  was  illustrated  with  a 
number  of  engravings.  Sir  Thomas  is  altogether  too 
dignified  a  person  to  take  part  in  the  quarrels  of  the 
early  editors,  and  carries  the  idea  that  editing  Shake- 
speare is  the  work  of  elegant  leisure  rather  than  the 
serious  vocation  of  life.  He  follows  Pope  in  degrading 
to  the  bottom  of  the  page  passages  which  seem  low  or 
undignified,  on  the  ground  that  they  were  'foisted  in 
by  the  players  after  his  death  to  please  the  vulgar  audi- 
ences.' If  this  could  be  proved,  excision  might  be  justi- 
fied ;  but  as  proof  is  out  of  the  question,  no  one  should 
mutilate  the  text  at  his  pleasure.  The  editor  struck  out 
the  conversation  in  Henry  Y  between  the  French  prin- 
cess and  her  gentlewoman,  which,  though  not  particu- 
larly witty,  is  amusing  enough  as  such  things  go,  and 
stands  in  the  original.  He  seems  to  have  thought  that 
it  was  undignified  in  the  daughter  of  a  king  to  be  enter- 
taining. He  made  a  few  emendations  which  have  been 
accepted,  but  many  that  are  inadmissible.  His  famil- 
iarity with  hunting  terms  enabled  him  to  point  out  that 
him  in  one  passage  was  a  misprint  for  lym  (an  old  word 
meaning  hound),  and  thereby  restore  the  sense.  In 
the  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor  the  host  says,  'It's 
a  merry  Knight,  will  you  go,  An-heiresf*  Hanmer 
suggested  Minheires  (Mynheers),  which  seems  plau- 
sible enough,  though  not  accepted  by  the  Cambridge 
editors. 


106        SHAKESPEARE   AND   HIS   CRITICS 

WHiLIAM  WARBUBTON  (1698-1779) 

Warburton  was  a  clergyman,  and  finally  became 
Bishop  of  Gloucester.  He  was  a  man  of  fine  abilities 
but  of  an  arrogant  nature,  and  entirely  unfitted  to  edit 
Shakespeare,  not  only  by  reason  of  lack  of  delicate  per- 
ception, but  because  he  was  so  insufferably  sure  that  his 
own  ideas  were  right.  He  was  at  first  a  correspondent 
of  Theobald's,  and  attacked  Pope  on  account  of  the 
deistical  doctrines  in  the  Essay  on  Man.  Afterwards 
he  accused  Theobald  of  appropriating  some  corrections 
he  had  communicated  to  him  confidentially,  and  took 
Pope's  side  in  the  quarrel  between  him  and  Theobald. 
He  is  of  no  authority  in  Shakespearean  criticism,  and 
his  edition,  1747,  merely  proves  the  increasing  demand 
for  the  poet's  works.  His  emendations,  now  discredited, 
with  very  few  exceptions,  are  so  bad  that  one  or  two  of 
them  are  given  to  show  what  absurdities  an  able  man 
may  promulgate  when  he  attempts  to  correct  poetry  and 
lacks  poetic  conception.  The  most  preposterous  one, 
'  beard  '  for  'bread,'  has  already  been  given  (page  100), 
and  was  adopted  by  Theobald,  who,  fortunately  for  his 
own  reputation,  gave  Warburton  credit.  Of  the  line 
in  Hamlet's  second  soliloquy,  — 

Or  to  take  arms  against  a  sea  of  troubles,  — 

Warburton  says,  'Without  question,  Shakespeare 
wrote,  'against  assail  of  troubles.'  Why  not  'assault 
of  troubles,'  or  'a  siege  of  troubles^  or  any  other 
word  containing  an  s  f  Either  kills  the  poetry  as  effect- 
ually as  does  'assail.' 

In  As  You  Like  It  Celia  says  to  Orlando :  — 

If  you  saw  yourself  with  your  eyes,  or  knew  yourself  with 
your  judgement,  the  fear  of  your  adventure  would  counsel 
you  to  a  more  equal  enterprise. 


EARLY   EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  EDITORS     107 

This  is  as  plain  as  ordinary  conversation  need  be, 
but  Warburton  says,  'Absurd;  we  must  read  our  eyes 
and  our  judgment.^  No  good  reason  can  be  given  for 
the  change.  Had  Celia  meant,  '  If  you  could  see  your- 
self as  we  see  you,'  she  would  have  said  so.  As  it  is,  the 
emphasis  is  not  on  'your,'  but  on  'eyes'  and  'judgment.' 

Later,  the  Duke  asks  Orlando  if  he  believed  in  what 
Rosalind  (disguised  as  a  boy)  had  promised.  Orlando 
says  very  neatly :  — 

I  sometimes  do  believe  and  sometimes  do  not, 
As  those  that  fear  they  hope  and  know  they  fear. 

Warburton's  note  is:  'This  strange  nonsense  should 
read :  — 

'  As  those  that  fear  their  hap  and  know  their  fear.* 

This  is  not  even  paraphrasing.  To  paraphrase  would  be 
to  write,  'As  those  who  are  apprehensive  lest  their  hope 
prove  vain  and  are  sure  they  are  excited ' ;  —  as  Or- 
lando might  well  be. 

Warburton  pays  his  respects  to  Theobald  and  Han- 
mer  in  good  old  eighteenth-century  fashion.  Theobald, 
he  says,  was 

a  poor  man  and  Hanmer  a  poor  critic,  ...  to  each  of  them 
I  communicated  a  great  number  of  observations  which  they 
managed,  as  they  saw  fit,  to  the  relief  of  their  several  dis- 
tresses. Theobald  generally  exerts  his  conjectural  talent  in 
the  wrong  place  :  he  tampers  with  what  is  found  in  the  com- 
mon books,  and  in  the  old  ones,  omits  all  notice  of  variations, 
the  sense  of  which  he  did  not  understand.  What  he  read 
he  could  transcribe ;  hut  as  to  what  he  thought,  if  he  ever 
thought,  he  could  but  ill  express,  so  he  read  on  and  by  that 
means  got  a  character  for  learning.  .  .  . 

How  the  Oxford  editor  came  to  think  himself  qualified 
for  this  office,  from  which  the  whole  course  of  his  life  had 
been  so  remote,  is  still  more  difficult  to  conceive.    For  what- 


108        SHAKESPEARE  AND   HIS   CRITICS 

ever  parts  he  might  have  either  of  genius  or  erudition,  he  was 
absolutely  ignorant  of  the  art  of  criticism,  as  well  as  of  the 
poetry  of  that  time,  and  the  language  of  his  author. 

This  was  in  the  Augustan  age,  the  age  of  Queen 
Anne,  '  when  letters  were  polite '  and  litterateurs  not, 
and  clergymen  were  only  partially  reformed  and  be- 
lieved in  the  original  sin  of  those  who  did  not  agree 
with  them. 

The  ineptitude  of  many  of  Warburton's  notes  passes 
belief,  and  is  one  of  the  reasons  for  the  dislike  felt  for 
a  century  by  the  lovers  of  the  dramatist  for  textual 
critics.  The  following  are  no  more  than  fair  specimens ; 

Macbeth, 
Time  and  the  hour  runs  through  the  roughest  day. 
Time  is  painted  with  an  hour-glass.    This  occasioned  the 
expression. 

Merchant  of  Venice. 

Launcelot.  The  old  proverb  is  very  well  parted  between 
my  master,  Shylock,  and  you,  sir.  You  have  the  grace  of  God, 
and  he  has  enough. 

Bassanio.  Thou  speak'st  it  well. 

I  should  choose  to  read,  thou  splitfst  it  well. 

Othello. 
lago.  Not  poppy  nor  mandragora. 

Nor  all  the  drowsy  syrups  of  the  world, 
Shall  ever  medicine  thee  to  that  sweet  sleep 
Which  thou  ow'dst  yesterday. 

Ow*dst  is  right  and  of  much  greater  force  than  the 
common  reading  hadst,  not  to  sleep  being  finely  called  de- 
frauding the  day  of  a  debt  of  nature.^ 

^  In  another  place  Warburton  says,  *  the  cocles  of  the  heart 
should  be  muscles  of  the  heart,  one  shell-fish  mistaken  for 
another ' ! 


EARLY   EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  EDITORS    109 

1  Henry  IV, 

Hotspur.  By  this  hand,  if  I  were  now  by  this  rascal,  I 
could  brain  him  with  his  lady's  fan. 

The  fans  then  in  fashion  had  very  long  handles. 

All 's   Well  that  Ends  Well. 

Helena.  How  shall  they  credit 

A  poor  unlearned  virgin,  when  the  schools, 
Embowelled  of  their  doctrine,  have  left  off 
The  danger  to  itself. 

Emhowelled  of  doctrine  plainly  means  '  having  ex- 
hausted all  their  learning  or  skill,'  but  Dr.  Warburton 

says,  — 

The  expression  is  beautifully  satirical,  and  implies  that  the 
theories  of  the  school  are  spun  out  of  the  bowels  of  the  pro- 
fessors [as  this  note  is  from  Dr.  Warburton's  viscera],  like 
the  cobwebs  of  the  spider. 

Dr.  Warburton  found  his  Theobald  in  Thomas  | 
Edwards  (1699-1757).  Edwards  was  a  barrister  and  a 
man  of  excellent  wit.  ^  His  Canons  of  Criticism^  de- 
voted entirely  to  Warburton's  shortcomings,  is  nearly 
always  right,  for  he  invariably  contradicts  Warburton, 
who  is  nearly  always  wrong.  He  first  lays  down  twenty- 
five  canons,  and  then  illustrates  each  from  Warburton's 
notes.     Some  of  Edwards's  ironical  rules  are :  — 

1.  A  professed  critic  has  a  right  to  declare  that  his  author 
wrote  whatever  he  thinks  he  ought  to  have  written,  with  as 
much  positiveness  as  if  he  had  been  at  his  elbow. 

2.  He  has  a  right  to  alter  any  passage  which  he  does  not 
understand. 

3.  These  alterations  he  may  make  in  spite  of  the  exact- 
ness of  measure. 

1  The  wittiest  of  all  commentators,  for  Steevens  is  a  sardonic  prac- 
tical joker,  and  Dr  Furness's  comments  in  summing  the  opinions  on 
a  knotty  point  of  interpretation  are  humorous  rather  than  witty. 


110        SHAKESPEARE  AND   HIS   CRITICS 

4.  When  he  does  not  like  an  expression  and  cannot  mend 
it  he  may  abuse  the  author  for  it. 

5.  Or  he  may  condemn  it  as  a  foolish  expression. 

6.  As  every  author  is  to  be  corrected  into  all  possible  per- 
fection, and  of  that  perfection  the  professed  critic  is  the  sole 
judge,  he  may  alter  any  word  or  phrase  which  does  not  want 
amendment,  or  which  will  do,  provided  he  can  think  of  any- 
thing which  he  imagines  will  do  better. 

The  other  canons  cover  every  possible  fault  a  critic 
can  be  guilty  of.  A  few  examples  will  show  with  what 
good  sense  and  caustic  wit  Mr.  Edwards  points  out 
Warburton's  mistakes. 

Canon  II.  Example  33.  Twelfth  Night. 

It  is  silly  sooth 
And  dallies  with  the  innocence  of  love 
Like  the  old  age. 

*  It  is  a  plain  old  song,'  says  Shakespeare ;  has  the  sim- 
plicity of  the  ancients,  and  dallies  with  the  innocence  of  love ; 
i.  e.,  sports  and  plays  innocently  with  a  love  subject,  as  they 
did  in  old  times. 

But  Mr.  Warburton,  who  is  here  out  of  his  element,  and 
on  a  subject  not  dreamt  of  in  his  philosophy,  pronounces 
peremptorily :  — 

'  Dallies  has  no  sense ;  we  should  read  tallies.''  Spoken 
more  like  a  baker  or  a  milkman  than  a  lover.  —  Edwards. 

Canon  II.  Example  37.  Measure  for  Measure. 

For  all  thy  blessed  youth  becomes  as  aged. 
Warburton  says,  *  Read  "  for  palled,  thy  blazed  youth 
becomes  assuaged.''  *  The  reason  for  this  alteration  is 
worthy  of  the  critic  by  profession,  who  not  finding  in  his 
author  what  to  censure  first  corrupts  under  pretence  of 
amending  him,  and  then  abuses  him  for  the  imputed  senti- 
ment. —  Edwards. 


EARLY  EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  EDITORS     111 

Canon  V.  Example  7.  Hamlet* 
That  father  lost,  lost  his. 
Mr.  Warburton's  reason  for  believing  that  the  beauty  of 
redoubling  the  word  lost,  is  easier  to  be  conceived  than  ex- 
plained, is,  because  when  it  is  explained,  it  amounts  to  non- 
sense. An  odd  reason,  this.  —  Edwards. 

Canon  VIII.  Example  37.   Much  Ado  About  Nothing. 

Past  the  infinite  of  thought. 

Human  thought  cannot  sure  be  called  infinite  with  any- 
kind  of  figurative  propriety.  I  suppose  the  true  reading  was 
definite.  —  Warburton. 

Whatever  the  impropriety  of  applying  this  term  to  finite 
and  even  trifling  things,  the  practice  is  so  common  that  it  is 
almost  a  shame  to  quote  any  proof  of  it,  but  I  cannot  forbear 
giving  one  from  one  of  Mr.  W.'s  own  prefaces.  —  Edwards. 

Canon  VI.  Example  5.  Cymheline. 
The  very  Gods. 

The  very  Gods  may  indeed  signify  the  Gods  themselves, 
yet  I  am  persuaded  the  reading  is  corrupt  and  that  Shake- 
speare wrote  '  the  warey  Gods,'  warey  here  signifying  fore- 
warning —  ready  to  give  notice,  and  not  as  in  its  more  usual 
meaning,  cautious,  reserved.  —  Warburton. 

Here  again  it  is  to  be  wished  that  Mr.  Warburton  had 
given  some  authority  for  using  the  word  in  this  sense,  which, 
if  he  had  looked  for,  he  might  have  found  at  least  how  to  spell 
it.  —  Edwards. 

Canon  VIII.  Example  39.   1  Henry  IV. 

If  I  travel  but  four  foot,  by  the  square  further  on  foot  I 
shall  break  my  wind. 

The  thought  is  humorous  and  alludes  to  his  bulk,  insinu- 
ating that  his  (Falstaff's)  legs  being  four  foot  asunder,  when 
he  advanced  four  foot  this  put  together  made  four  foot 
square.  —  Warburton. 


112        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

According  to  this  rule  let  us  measure  the  leap  of  the 
dancer  in  the  Winter's  Tale,  who  '  jumped  twelve  foot  and  a 
half  by  the  square,'  i.  e.,  twelve  foot  forward  and  as  much 
sideways.  But  whether  he  did  this  by  jumping  in  the  dia- 
gonal, or  whether  he  carried  his  legs  twelve  feet  and  a  half 
asunder,  is  not  very  easily  determined.  .  .  .  By  the  square 
in  both  places  Shakespeare  means  nothing  more  than  a  com- 
mon measure,  a  foot  rule  (carpenter's  square).  —  Edwards. 

There  is  something  very  modern  in  the  tone  and 
style  of  Edwards's  criticism  of  criticism.  He  makes  few 
mistakes  in  his  book.  In  Macbeth  the  Sergeant  says :  — 

As  whence  the  sun  'gins  his  reflection 
Shipwrecking  storms  and  direful  thunders  break. 

Iteflection  means  the  turning  back  of  the  sun  after 
the  solstice  whence,  at  the  equinox,  storms  were  sup- 
posed to  be  engendered,  but  both  Edwards  and  Warbur- 
ton  take  it  to  mean  reflection  oj^  light.  Warburton 
thinks  that  storms  come  from  the  east  when  the  sun 
begins  to  shine ;  Edwards,  that  they  come  from  the  sky 
(heaven)  '  whence  the  sun  gives  his  reflection,'  or  his 
light  and  heat,  reading  'gives'  for '  gins '  on  the  author- 
ity of  Pope.  Both  are  wrong.  ^ 

1  In  the  seventh  edition  of  Edwards's  book,  published  after 
the  author's  death  (1765),  a  number  of  sonnets  are  found  which 
just  miss  beiug  excellent  social  verse.  There  is  also  an  excur- 
sus on  spelling  reform,  entitled  the  Trial  of  the  Letter  V  or  Up^ 
sUoriy  in  which  Apollo  hears  the  petitions  of  various  letters.  The 
letter  N  petitions  that  G  may  be  excluded  from  the  yioxdiS  foreign 
and  sovereign,  A  cross-petitions  that  E  and  I  may  be  ousted  and 
he  put  in  possession  (sovran).  O  enters  a  complaint  against  U 
for  intruding  in  the  words  labor,  honor,  and  *  all  words  ending 
in  or  derived  from  the  Latines.'  This  was  granted  at  once,  forty- 
five  years  before  the  day  of  Noah  Webster.  In  fact  this  eight- 
eenth-century barrister's  ideas  on  spelling  are  more  radical 
than  those  of  our  reformers,  except  with  regard  to  ough,  which 
multi-sonant  combination  be  votes  to  retain  in  all  its  incongru- 
ous but  time-honored  positions. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  LATER  EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  EDITORS 
DR.  JOHNSON  (1709-1784) 

When  we  read  Dr.  Johnson's  prospectus  or  the  intro- 
duction to  his  edition  of  the  plays  (1765),  we  feel  at  once 
that  we  are  in  the  grasp  of  a  powerful  intellect.  There 
is  a  dignified  march  in  the  opening  paragraphs,  and  a 
massive  good  sense  in  the  handling  of  the  subject,  that 
is  very  impressive.  But  we  soon  find  that  it  is  an  intel- 
lect no  less  limited  than  powerful,  and  one  strangely  un- 
conscious of  its  limitations.  This  impression  is  increased 
by  the  notes  to  the  separate  plays.  When  the  point 
can  be  determined  by  good  sense,  when  it  is  a  question 
of  the  meaning  of  certain  words  or  the  grammatical  rela- 
tion of  certain  clauses.  Dr.  Johnson's  notes  are  instruct- 
ive. He  says,  '  This  must  mean  so  and  so,'  or  '  This  is 
nonsense,  I  can  make  nothing  of  it, '  and  we  are  apt  to 
agree  with  him.  But  when  some  necessary  question  of  the 
play  is  to  be  considered,  especially  anything  depending 
on  the  vital  nature  of  the  characters,  this  robust  intel- 
lect is  helpless.  It  is  men  of  this  type  that  have  built 
imperial  England.  Intellectual  integrity,  regard  for 
truth,  justice,  and  duty  have  made  Englishmen  success- 
ful in  dealing  with  Oriental  nations.  But  at  the  same 
time  a  peculiar  inability  to  take  the  sympathetic  and 
imaginative  point  of  view  prevents  them  from  compre- 
hending the  inner  life  of  alien  races,  so  that  sometimes, 
as  in  India  and  Egypt,  England,  though  a  beneficent, 
is  a  hated  power,  and  a  mutiny  may  arise  and  the  Eng- 
lish officials  be  entirely  unable  to  foresee  or  prevent  it. 
This  same  unwillingness  or  inability  to  understand  a 


114        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

mental  condition  foreign  to  insular  education,  and  an 
absolute  certainty  that  the  individual's  point  of  view  is 
the  correct  and  only  one,  characterizes  Dr.  Johnson's 
criticism  of  Shakespeare. 

Dr.  Johnson  was  a  scholar,  a  moralist,  and  a  literary 
man,  but  his  scholarship  was  almost  entirely  confined 
to  the  classics  and  the  Latin  element  of  our  language, 
his  philosophy  was  dogmatic  and  rested  on  arbitrary 
assumptions,  and  his  knowledge  of  literature  did  not 
cover  the  intimate  acquaintance  with  the  writings  of  the 
Elizabethan  period  his  task  demanded.  It  is  a  tribute 
to  the  estimation  in  which  Shakespeare's  plays  were 
held  that  the  two  leading  literary  men  of  their  respect- 
ive generations  should  be  chosen  to  edit  them.  Dr. 
Johnson  was  a  conscientious  worker,  but  at  the  period 
(1756)  when  he  undertook  to  bring  out  an  edition  of 
Shakespeare  he  was  beginning  to  grow  old  and  weary, 
and  was  inclined  to  procrastinate,  so  much  so  that  he 
had  to  be  sharply  reminded  of  his  duty.  Very  likely  he 
had  underestimated  the  immense  labor  necessary  for  the 
minute  examination  of  each  line  and  the  collation  of  the 
quartos  with  the  First  Folio.  He  laid  down  the  excellent 
rule  that  *  the  old  books  were  probably  right,'  and  that 
'  conjecture  should  not  be  substituted  unless  justified  by 
probability.'  On  the  whole,  his  edition  was  a  disappoint- 
ment, even  in  his  own  day. 

Dr.  Johnson  was  not  a  poet,  and  it  is  only  through 
the  poet  in  us  that  we  can  appreciate  Shakespeare.  He 
hated  romanticism  or  any  tendency  to  give  an  air  of 
mystery  or  a  tone  of  enthusiasm  or  passion  to  a  literary 
representation  of  life.  He  could  see  nothing  in  Gray's 
Odes  or  Milton's  Lycidas.  They  were  too  spectacular, 
and  conveyed  no  definite  moral.  For  him  the  poet  must 
hold  a  mirror  up  to  nature,  but  it  must  not  be  a  magic 
mirror  —  it  must  be  destitute  of  the  first  quality  for 


LATER  EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  EDITORS    115 

a  poetic  reflection.  His  ear  was  trained  to  classic  scan-  ; 
sion  and  the  regular  beat  of  Pope's  verse,  and  deaf  to  \ 
the  finer  melodies  of  his  own  tongue.  He  could  even  say  |li 
that  there  '  were  not  more  than  five  or  at  least  six  per- 
fect lines  in  Shakespeare.'  His  criticism  was  vitiated 
by  the  pernicious  idea  that  poetry  must  convey  some 
definite  lesson  in  morals,  of  which  the  poet  himself 
is  conscious;  and,  by  morals,  he  means  the  conven- 
tional, established  standard  of   social  equity,  not  the 
underlying  principles  of  justice  and  love  existing  from 
the  beginning.  / 

Under  these  circumstances  it  may  be  wondered  at    I 
that  he  could  see  anything  good  in  Shakespeare  at  all,    I 
and  it  may  be  that  his  recognition  is  a  very  high  tribute     j 
to  the  universality  of  the  poet.  But   Shakespeare  by 
this  time  had  become  an  English  institution.  His  plays 
had  been  presented  for  nearly  a  hundred  years  by  a 
succession  of  great  actors.  Dr.  Johnson  had  repeatedly 
seen  Garrick  in  the  great  tragedies.  The  representa- 
tions were  a  part  of  the  life  of  London.  Dr.  Johnson 
had  not  the  slightest  idea  of  their  signifi^cance,  but 
they  were  English  and  established  and  respectable.  He   ^ 
could  even  tolerate  Midsummer  NigMs  Dream^  for 
the  fairies,  though  *  wild  and  fantastical,'  were  also  an 
established  English  institution.  He  says,  in  one  of  the 
oddest  sentences  ever  penned  :  '  wild  and  fantastical  as 
this  play  is,  all  the  parts  in  their  various  modes  are 
well  written,  and  give  the  kind  of  pleasure  "which  the 
author  designed.  Fairies  in  his   time  were  much  in 
fashion;  common  tradition  had  made  them  familiar, 
and  Spenser's  poem  had  made  them  great.' 

'  Fairies  were  much  in  fashion  '  is  an  extraordinary 
statement.  In  fact,  the  entire  passage  is  utterly  incom- 
prehensible. What  has  the  Faerie  Queene  to  do  with 
Cobweb  and  Peaseblossom  ? 


116        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

He  seems  to  have  regarded  the  Shakespearean  char- 
acters as  stage  figures,  not  as  real  people.  This  may 
have  been  the  attitude  of  most  of  his  contemporaries, 
for  the  human  nature  and  individuality  of  Shake- 
speare's characters  is  not  what  first  attracts  attention. 
This  is  most  noticeable  in  the  case  of  the  women  of  the 
plays.  The  dignity,  purity,  vivacity,  and  charm  which 
attract  us  so  powerfully  in  Viola,  Portia,  Imogen, 
Rosalind,  and  Beatrice,  were  not  noticed  by  any  one 
before  the  last  quarter  of  the  eighteenth  century.  This  is 
surprising,  and  shows  the  great  value  of  Shakespearean 
criticism,  for  to  know  such  women  '  is  a  liberal  educa- 
tion.* Dr.  Johnson  was  blind  to  the  chief  beauty  in  the 
book  he  was  commenting  on.  For  instance,  he  says  of 
our  charming  Viola/  *  when  she  determines  to  seek 
service  with  the  Duke  Orsino,  Viola  is  an  excellent 
schemer,  never  at  a  loss.'  ^  As  American  college  stu- 
dents say,  '  We  cannot  stand  for  that.'  Viola  is  a  type 
of  something  most  sacred  to  every  man,  —  the  maiden. 
In  her  distress  she  is  obliged  to  seek  the  first  means 
of  livelihood  available,  and,  as  she  cannot  find  service 
with  Olivia,  she  is  obliged  to  disguise  herself  as  a  boy 
and  enter  Orsino's  household.  Granting  that  she  is  a 
trifle  sentimental  and  falls  in  love  very  promptly,  we 
must  remember  that  things  must  move  rapidly  in  a  play, 
even  if  the  limit  of  twenty-four  hours  is  disregarded. 
Besides,  Orsino  is  an  attractive  person,  —  a  gentleman. 
Olivia  says :  — 

...  I  suppose  him  virtuous,  know  him  noble, 

Of  great  estate,  of  fresh  and  stainless  youth ; 

In  voices  well  divulged,  free,  learned,  and  valiant, 

1  In  Literature  of  Europe,  Mr.  Hallam,  a  man  of  something-  the 
same  solid  density,  says  the  same  thing'  of  Viola.  Campbell  calls 
the  high-spirited,  witty  Beatrice  *  an  odious  creature.'  These 
things  are  '  all  long  ago.' 


LATER  EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  EDITORS    117 

And  in  dimension  and  the  shape  of  nature 
A  gracious  person. 

It  is  a  crude  and  cruel  slander  to  say  that  Viola  was 
attracted  by  the  '  great  estate.' 

Dr.  Johnson  failed  to  see  the  charm  and  dignity  of 
Imogen,  and  says  of  the  play :  — 

To  remark  the  folly  of  the  fiction,  the  ahsurdity  of  the 
conduct,  the  confusion  of  the  names  and  manners  of  differ- 
ent times,  and  the  impossibility  of  the  events  in  any  system 
of  life,  were  to  waste  criticism  on  unresisting  imbecility, 
upon  faults  too  evident  for  detection,  and  too  gross  for  aggra- 
vation.* ^ 

That  is  like  the  irruption  of  an  elephant  into  a  flower 
garden,  —  an  intelligent  and  dignified  beast  out  of  his 
sphere. 

The  heresy  that  a  play  must  teach  some  definite  J 
maxim  in  social  morals  runs  through  much  of  Dr.  I 
Johnson's  criticism.  Of  Twelfth  Night  he  says :  —        * 

The  marriage  of  Olivia  and  the   succeeding    perplexity, 
though  well  enough  contrived  to  divert  on  the  stage,  wants 
credibiHty,    and    fails    to   produce   the  proper   instruction  '• 
required  in  the  drama,  as  it  exhibits  no  just  picture  of. 
life. 

Of  As  You  Like  It  he  says :  — 

By  hastening  to  the  end  of  his  work,  Shakespeare  sup- 
pressed the  dialogue  between  the  usurper  and  the  hermit,  and 

1  Shakespeare's  anachronisms  are  quite  evident.  The  outside  of 
things  he  views  from  the  standpoint  of  an  EHzabethan,  the  inner 
hfe,  sub  specie  ceternitaiis.  But  he  never  jumbled  the  ages  as 
Lodge  did  in  Wounds  of  the  Civil  War^  Lodge  takes  it  for 
granted  that  a  Gaul  is  a  Frenchman  because  some  Frenchmen 
are  Gauls,  and  makes  the  Gaul  sent  to  kill  Marins  in  prison  say; 
*Me  no  dare  kill  Caius  Marius,  a  Dieu  Messieurs,  me  be  dead  si 
je  touch  Marius.'  Lodge  was  a  scholar,  too,  a  graduate  of  Oxford. 


118        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

lost  an  opportunity  of  exhibiting  a  moral  lesson,  in  which  he 
might  have  found  matter  worthy  of  his  highest  powers. 

Shakespeare  knew  better  than  to  use  his  poetry  like 
*  a  stalking  horse,  and  under  the  presentation  of  that 
to  shoot  his '  sermons.  He  '  exhibits  his  moral  lessons,' 
just  as  life  does,  in  the  warp  and  woof  of  the  web. 

Of  I^ear  Dr.  Johnson  says :  — 

But  though  this  moral  [that  crime  begets  crime]  be  in- 
cidentally enforced,  Shakespeare  has  suffered  the  virtue  of 
Cordelia  to  perish  in  a  just  cause,  contrary  to  the  natural  ideas 
of  justice,  to  the  hope  of  the  reader,  and,  what  is  yet  more 
strange,  to  the  faith  of  the  chronicles.  ...  A  play  in  which 
the  wicked  prosper,  and  the  virtuous  miscarry,  may  doubtless 
be  good,  because  it  is  a  just  representation  of  the  common 
events  of  life  ;  but  since  all  reasonable  beings  naturally  love 
justice,  I  cannot  easily  be  persuaded  that  the  observation  of 
/justice  makes  a  play  worse. 

/  5      He  therefore  gives  the  preference  to  Tait's  version  of 
Z/ear,  where  Cordelia  marries  Edgar  and  Lear  dances 
at  the  wedding.     Doubtless  our  feelings  when  Lear 
/  hangs  over  the  dead  body  of  Cordelia  are  poignant,  and 

we  rebel  against  so  cruel  a  fate,  but  it  had  to  be.  It  is 
the  logical  outcome  of  hers  and  her  father's  characters. 
People  sometimes  by  good  luck  escape  the  consequences 
of  pride  and  folly,  but  these  did  not.  '  The  wonder  is 
he  hath  endured  so  long.'  Besides,  what  Dr.  Johnson 
overlooks,  '  the  wicked '  did  not  *  prosper.'  The  five 
wicked  people  all  die  before  Lear,  and  three  good  ones 
survive. 

Dr.  Johnson  overlooks  another  case,  when  the  drama- 
tist '  lost  an  opportunity  of  exhibiting  a  moral  lesson.' 
Falstaif  is  behind  the  scene  in  Henry  V,  He  might 
have  been  brought  in  a  chair  by  Bardolph  and  Pistol, 
and  have  made  bis  death-bed  repentance  to  a  clergyman 


LATER  EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  EDITORS    119 

of  the  Established  Church,  and  departed,  if  not  in  the 
odor  of  sanctity,  at  least  in  an  impressive  and  moral 
manner.  Shakespeare  could  have  written  the  scene  in 
half  an  hour,  and  have  made  it  acceptable  to  the  audi- 
ence by  concealing  the  fact  that  it  was  a  moral  lesson. 
He  had  promised  in  the  epilogue  to  Henry  IV,  Part 
2,  to  bring  the  old  knight  on  the  stage  again.  But  it 
would  have  been  a  grave  artistic  error  to  do  so,  for  it 
would  have  distracted  attention  from  the  central  figure, 
'that  Star  of  England,'  and  from  the  hero,  the  English 
army,  so  admirably  presented  in  its  component  parts, 
the  Englishman,  the  Welshman,  and  the  Irishman, 
w^ith  the  Scotchman,  —  hereafter  to  prove  its  main- 
stay,—  just  on  the  outskirts.  A  'necessary  question  of 
the  play  is  to  be  considered,'  and  Sir  John  cannot  be 
allowed  to  occupy  the  centre  of  the  stage  and  distort 
the  action. 

The  stern  virtue  of  the  moralist  is,  however,  sensible 
of  the  attraction  of  Falstaff.     He  exclaims :  — 

But  Falstaff !  unimitated,  unimitable  Falstaff !  how  shall  I 
describe  thee  ?  Thou  compound  of  sense  and  vice  ;  of  sense 
which  may  be  admired  but  not  esteemed,  of  vice  which  may 
be  despised  but  hardly  detested  ?  .  .  .  Yet  the  man  thus  cor- 
rupt, thus  despicable,  makes  himself  necessary  to  the  prince 
that  despises  him,  by  the  most  pleasing  of  all  qualities,  per- 
petual gaiety,  by  an  unfailing  power  of  exciting  laughter, 
which  is  the  more  freely  indulged  as  his  wit  is  not  of  the 
splendid  or  ambitious  kind,  but  consists  in  easy  scapes  and 
sallies  of  levity,  which  make  sport,  but  raise  no  envy.  It 
must  be  observed,  that  he  is  stained  with  no  enormous  OTJ 
sanguinary  crimes,  so  that  his  licentiousness  is  not  so  offens-/ 
ive  but  that  it  may  be  borne  for  his  mirth. 

Remembering,  suddenly,  his  duty  to  society,  the  Doc- 
tor comes  about,  and  concludes  :  — 

The  moral  to  be  drawn  from  this  representation  is  that  no 


120        SHAKESPEARE   AND   HIS   CRITICS 

man  is  more  dangerous  than  he  that,  with  a  will  to  corrupt, 
hath  the  power  to  please ;  and  that  neither  wit  nor  honesty- 
ought  to  think  themselves  safe  with  such  a  companion  when 
they  see  Henry  seduced  by  Falstaff. 

In  his  preface,  Dr.  Johnson  assumes  without  question 
Shakespeare's  power.    He  notes  that — 

Upon  every  other  stage  the  universal  agent  is  love,  by 
whose  power  all  good  and  evil  is  distributed  and  every  action 
quickened  or  retarded.  .  .  .  But  love  is  only  one  of  many 
passions,  and  as  it  has  no  great  influence  on  the  sum  of  life, 
it  has  little  operation  in  the  dramas  of  a  poet,  who  caught 
his  ideas  from  the  living  world,  and  exhibited  only  what  he 
saw  before  him.  He  knew  that  any  other  passion,  as  it  was 
regular  or  exorbitant,  was  a  cause  of  happiness  or  calamity. 

The  critic  probably  refers  to  the  tragedies,  for  it  is 
only  in  Romeo  and  Juliet  that  love  is  the  sole  motive 
force.  In  the  comedies  love,  vanity,  egotism,  whim  — 
everything  that  is  mingled  in  the  kindly  view  of  life, 
contributes  to  our  pleasure.  Avarice  and  loyalty  to  race 
make  Shylock  a  more  dramatic  figure  than  Portia.  In 
Antony  and  Cleopatra  and  Othello  love  is  the  im- 
pelling power,  but  it  plays  a  very  subordinate  part  in 
Hamlet^  and  is  absent  from  Xear,  Macbeth^  and  Timon, 
Shakespeare  estimated  all  passions  at  their  relative 
value ;  ambition,  revenge,  avarice,  and  intellectual 
pride  are  not  exaggerated  as  they  are  by  Marlowe,  but 
the  threads  in  the  tangled  web  of  human  life  are  un- 
raveled and  then  woven  into  a  coherent  fabric,  as  men 
wove  it  in  his  day,  and  do  in  ours  when  they  are  most 
men. 

Dr.  Johnson  comments  on  the  stricture  that  '  Shake- 
speare has  united  the  powers  of  exciting  laughter  and 
sorrow  not  only  in  one  mind  but  in  one  composition.* 
He  admits : — 


LATER  EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  EDITORS    121 

That  .  .  .  this  is  a  practice  contrary  to  the  rules  of  criticism 
will  be  readily  allowed  ;  but  there  is  always  an  appeal  from 
criticism  to  nature.  The  end  of  writing  is  to  instruct,^  the 
end  of  poetry  is  to  instruct  hy  pleasing.  That  the  mingled  P 
drama  may  convey  all  the  instruction  of  tragedy  or  comedy 
cannot  be  denied,  because  it  includes  both  in  its  alterations 
of  exhibition  and  approaches  nearer  than  either  to  the  ap- 
pearance of  life. 

He  fails  to  appreciate  the  nature  of  the  Shakespearean 
tragedy,  as  every  one  did  till  the  day  of  Coleridge  and 
Schlegel.  He  makes  the  extraordinary  statement  that  ' 
the  dramatist  is  weak  in  narration,  forgetting  Pros- 
pero's  story  to  Miranda,  Horatio's  talk  with  the  guards- 
men, and  many  other  passages  where  the  situation  is 
placed  before  us  by  narrative  conversation  of  a  dra- 
matic quality.  He  forgets  that  the  absence  of  scenery 
necessitated  on  the  Elizabethan  stage  descriptive  pas- 
sages to  create  an  illusion.  He  declares  that  '  his  decla- 
rations or  set  speeches  are  weak.'  Could  he  ever  have 
read  Julius  Ccesar  or  Othello  f  He  says,  with  more 
justice,  that  a  '  quibble  [pun]  is  to  Shakespeare  what 
luminous  vapours  are  to  the  traveller ;  he  follows  it  at 
all  adventures  —  it  is  sure  to  lead  him  out  of  his  way, 
and  sure  to  engulf  him  in  the  mire.'  He  forgets  that 
when  punning  was  first  invented  its  attraction  was  irre- 
sistible, and  that  at  least  one  of  the  dramatists  was  a 
worse  punster  than  Shakespeare.  He  points  out  that  , 
the  poet  was  not  strong  in  the  construction  of  final  acts 
of  his  plays.  He  defends  Shakespeare  for  the  violation 
of  the  unities,  partly,  perhaps,  because  Voltaire  had  at- 
tacked him  so  venomously;   for  Dr.  Johnson  was  by 

*  True  enough,  but  not  in  the  sense  Dr.  Johnson  takes  it.  In- 
struct, instruere,  to  build  up  in  the  mind  general  conceptions  of 
beauty  and  truth,  not  to  teach  arithmetic  or  the  catechism  *  by 
pleasing.' 


122        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

nature  a  conservative  classicist.  His  argument  on  this 
point  is  a  model  of  cogency.  He  admits  that  he  is 
*  almost  frightened  by  my  own  temerity ;  and  when  I 
estimate  the  fame  and  strength  of  those  that  maintain 
the  contrary  opinion  I  am  ready  to  sink  down  in  rev- 
erential silence,'  an  attitude  so  foreign  to  his  position 
before  other  men  that  we  can  understand  how  deeply 
rooted  in  the  minds  of  critics  was  the  belief  that  the 
unities  were  essential  to  a  tragedy.  Dr.  Johnson 
writes :  — 

The  objection  [to  change  of  scene]  arising  from  the  im- 
possibility of  passing  the  first  hour  at  Alexandria,  and  the 
next  at  Rome,  supposes,  that  when  the  play  opens,  the  spec- 
tator really  believes  himself  at  Alexandria,  and  believes  that 
his  walk  to  the  theatre  has  been  a  voyage  to  Egypt,  and 
that  he  lives  in  the  days  of  Antony  and  Cleopatra.  Surely 
he  that  imagines  this  may  imagine  more.  He  that  can  take 
the  stage  At  one  time  for  the  palace  of  the  Ptolemies,  may 
take  it  in  half  an  hour  for  the  promontory  of  Actium.  .  .  . 

[jDhe  drama  exhibits  successive  imitations  of  successive  actions, 
and  why  may  not  the  second  imitation  represent  an  action 
that  happened  years  after  the  first,  if  it  be  so  connected  with 
it  that  nothing  but  time  can  be  supposed  to  intervene  ? 

His  argument  ought  to  have  been  enough  entirely  to 
destroy  the  slavish  regard  for  the  unities,  already  much 

X  weakened.  His  predecessors  had  excused  Shakespeare, 
on  the  plea  of  his  ignorance  and  the  lack  of  taste  in  his 
audiences.  Dr.  Johnson  defends  him,  on  the  ground  of 
the  essential  nature  of  dramatic  illusion.  Shakespeare's 
tragedies  fulfilled  the  essential  requirement ;  they  held 
the  attention  of  the  audience  when  acted,  and  they  de- 
lighted the  most  cultivated  part  of  the  audience  when 
well  acted.  Dr.  Johnson  might  have  added,  '  If  the 
spectators  were  willing  to  accept  an  English  boy  in 
female  attire  as  the  Queen  of  Egypt,  no  greater  strain 


LATER  EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  EDITORS    123 

would  be  superinduced  on  their  imaginations  by  con- 
sidering a  platform  in  London  to  be  in  succession  the 
palace  of  the  Ptolemies  in  Alexandria  and  the  hall  of 
the  imperial  Caesars  in  Rome/ 

His  comparison  between  Shakespeare  and  the  regular 
writers  is  marked  by  the  same  victorious  common 
sense :  — 

The  work  of  a  correct  and  regular  writer  is  a  garden  accu- 
rately formed  and  diligently  planted,  varied  with  shades  and 
scented  with  flowers :  the  composition  of  Shakespeare  is  a 
forest,  in  which  oaks  extend  their  branches  and  pines  tower 
in  the  air,  interspersed  sometimes  with  weeds  and  brambles, 
and  sometimes  giving  shelter  to  myrtles  and  roses  ;  filling  the 
eye  with  awful  pomp  and  gratifying  the  mind  with  endless 
diversity. 

There  is  still  here  a  suggestion  of  the  old  heresy  that 
Shakespeare  '  lacked  art,*  which  really  meant  that  he 
lacked  artificiality ;  but  had  Dr.  Johnson  noticed  that 
the  forest  was  far  more  germane  to  the  spirit  of  man 
than  the  garden,  he  would  have  left  little  to  be  desired 
in  the  way  of  appreciation. 

The  great  moralist  lacked  the  quickness  of  apprehen- 
sion necessary  to  amend  the  dark  places  in  the  text,  — 
indeed,  some  places  that  are  quite  clear  seemed  dark  to 
him.  For  instance,  Lear  says :  — 

Dear  daughter,  I  confess  that  I  am  old  ; 
Age  is  unnecessary.  On  my  knees  I  beg  .  .  . 

Dr.  Johnson  says  the  meaning  of  '  Age  is  unnecessary ' 
is  '  Old  age  has  few  wants,'  whereas  the  reader  feels  at 
once  that  the  speech  is  bitterly  ironical,  and  the  ex- 
pression in  question  means  that  old  men  are  superfluous 
or  useless.  Again,  in  Merry  Wives ^  v,  v,  Falstaff 
says,  '  Ignorance  itself  is  a  plummet  over  me.' 


124        SHAKESPEARE  AND   HIS   CRITICS 

The  word '  plummet '  Dr.  Johnson  says  should  be '  plume.' 
The  exact  meaning  of  this  passage  is  obscure,  but  it  is 
difficult  to  see  how  '  plume  '  enlightens  it.  Falstaff  may 
mean,  I  am  so  shallow  that  ignorance  can  sound  me 
with  a  plummet,  or,  ignorance  can  hold  a  plumb  line  to 
rectify  my  errors.  The  difficulty  lies  in  the  word  '  over.' 
In  As  You  Like  It  Silvius  says  to  Phebe,  — 

Will  you  sterner  be 
Than  he  that  dies  and  lives  by  bloody  drops  ? 

This  passage  gave  a  great  deal  of  trouble  to  early  com- 
mentators, though  it  is  evident,  as  Silvius  had  a  few 
lines  before  spoken  of  an  executioner,  that  the  meaning 
is  '  Will  you  be  more  cold-hearted  than  a  man  who  lives 
and  dies  by  a  bloody  trade  ?  '  '  Lives  and  dies '  is  equival- 
ent to  *  gains  his  living  by,'  or  '  passes  his  life  in,'  and 
is  so  used  now.  Dr.  Johnson  said  it  should  read  — 

Will  you  sterner  be 
Than  he  that  dyes  his  lips  by  bloody  drops  ? 

For  this  change  no  good  reason  can  be  given.  The 
trouble  probably  arises  from  the  fact  that  either  Shake- 
speare or  the  printer  carelessly  transposed  'lives  and 
dies  '  into  '  dies  and  lives.' 

Dr.  Johnson  illustrates  well  the  prosaic  and  literal 
tendency  of  the  eighteenth  century.  In  common  with 
several  others  he  is  determined  to  find  a  logical  se- 
quence of  thought  in  the  fooling  of  the  clowns,  and 
rehashes  Launce's  soliloquy  in  the  Tioo  Gentlemen  of 
Verona.  Wit  in  a  man  like  Benedick  has  a  substratum 
of  sense,  but  wit  in  a  rattlebrain  skips  over  the  surface 
of  thought,  touching  it  here  and  there,  with  only  the 
most  airy  connection  of  ideas,  and  frequently  none  at 
all.  This  a  man  like  Dr.  Johnson  cannot  understand. 
He  tries  to  turn  nonsense  into  his  idea  of  sense,  and 
comic  poetry  into  prose. 


LATER   EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY   EDITORS     125 

In  interpreting  passages  where  analysis  only  is 
needed,  Dr.  Johnson  is  much  more  successful,  and,  of 
course,  his  other  emendations  are  not  always  as  absurd 
as  those  cited,  though  he  is  not  credited  with  any  of 
the  notable  ones.  He  laid  down  in  his  admirable  pre- 
fatory essay  the  sound  rule  to  '  adhere  to  the  old  books ' 
and  avoid  conjecture  unless  buttressed  by  evidence. 
Unfortunately,  he  did  not  always  adhere  to  this  rule. 
His  name  is  inseparably  connected  with  that  of  Shake- 
speare. His  edition,  reedited  by  Steevens  and  Reed,  and 
republished  in  this  country  many  times,  was  the  one 
from  which  our  fathers  learned  the  plays.  In  particular, 
many  persons  will  remember  the  seventeen  brown 
octavos  of  1809,  in  which  they  first  read  the  plays  fifty 
years  ago. 

His  edition  was  venomously  attacked  by  a  man  named 
Kendrick,  who  is  mentioned  in  Goldsmith's  Retaliation, 
but  Dr.  Johnson  was  too  dignified  a  person  to  pay 
any  attention  to  criticism,  and  Kendrick  had  not  learn- 
ing or  ability  enough  to  cause  him  any  uneasiness.  Be- 
sides, Dr.  Johnson's  theory  was  that  to  notice  critics 
was  the  only  way  to  give  them  any  importance.  'De- 
pend upon  it,  sir,'  he  said,  '  no  man  was  ever  written 
down  but  by  himself.'  He  failed  entirely  to  appreciate 
Theobald,  who  entered  into  the  spirit  of  the  plays  so 
much  more  fully  than  he  could,  and  said  to  his  friend, 
Dr.  Burney :  *  Warburton  would  make  two-and-fif ty 
Theobalds  cut  into  slices.'  He  added,  however,  'The 
worst  of  Warburton  is  that  he  has  a  rage  for  saying 
something  when  there  is  nothing  to  be  said,'  which 
certainly  would  not  apply  to  Theobald,  who  always 
makes  his  point.  With  Steevens,  the  next  editor  who 
republished  and  amplified  Johnson's  edition,  he  was  on 
the  best  of  terms,  and  made  him  a  member  of  the 
Literary  Club  on  the  same  night  that  the  historian 


126        SHAKESPEARE  AND   HIS   CRITICS 

Gibbon  was  admitted.  Steevens  gave  life  and  credit  to 
Johnson's  Shakespeare,  and,  though  a  very  acrimonious 
person,  was  careful  not  to  offend  his  senior.  He  was, 
too,  a  wit  and  a  scholar,  and  possessed  in  his  conver- 
sational power  a  sure  passport  to  Johnson's  favor.  Dr. 
Johnson  was  equally  fortunate  in  his  friends  and  in  his 
enemies.  Had  Steevens  been  among  the  latter,  his  work 
on  Shakespeare's  plays  would  have  been  severely  and 
deservedly  criticised. 

One  point  which  should  be  noted  in  Dr.  Johnson's 
favor  is,  that  when  he  found  a  passage  unintelligible 
he  did  not  ignore  it,  as  some  of  his  predecessors  had 
^  done,  but  confessed  his  inability  to  make  it  clear.  He 
says:  'To  time  I  have  been  obliged  to  resign  many 
passages,  which,  though  I  did  not  understand  them, 
will  perhaps  hereafter  be  explained.'  '  In  many  passages 
I  have  failed  like  others  ;  and  from  many,  after  all  my 
efforts,  I  have  retreated,  and  confessed  the  repulse.  I 
have  not  passed  over,  with  affected  superiority,  what  is 
equally  difficult  to  the  reader  and  to  myself,  but  where 
I  could  not  instruct  him  have  owned  my  ignorance.' 

The  great  charm  of  Dr.  Johnson  as  a  man  is,  that 
he  was  absolutely  honest ;  there  was  no  affectation 
about  him.  This  is  not  an  undesirable  trait  in  a  critic, 
though  by  no  means  universal. 

EDWARD  CAPEIili  (1713-1781) 

With  the  exception  of  Theobald,  the  editors  previ- 
ously mentioned  were  amateurs.  It  was  not  perceived 
that  a  peculiar  kind  of  scholarship,  quite  as  minute  and 
painstaking  as  that  requisite  for  editing  a  Greek  or 
Latin  text,  was  called  for  to  collect  and  arrange  the 
materials  and  deduce  the  proper  readings,  and,  even 
had  it  been  perceived,  a  generation  or  two  would  have 
passed  before  such  a  type  could  be  developed.   Con- 


LATER  EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  EDITORS     127 

jectural  readings  had  been  freely  and  sometimes  rashly 
admitted.  Everywhere  in  England  '  ingenious  gentle- 
men '  indulged  in  guesses  as  to  what  the  author  said, 
and  corresponded  with  one  another  and  with  the  editors. 
The  editors  printed  the  conjectures  if  they  liked,  and 
each  expended  a  large  amount  of  energy  in  abusing 
other  editors.  Each  successively  formed  his  text  largely 
on  that  of  his  predecessor,  with  the  exception  of  Theo- 
bald, whom  all  agreed  in  regarding  as  a  poor  creature, 
because  he  argued  his  points  on  evidence  and  was  usu- 
ally right.  Rowe  had  formed  his  text  on  the  Fourth 
Folio,  with  some  use  of  a  late  quarto,  now  lost,  in  the 
case  of  Hamlet.  Pope  followed  Rowe,  with  some  use 
of  the  quartos  and  more  of  his  own  imagination.  Theo- 
bald was  an  editor  in  the  true  sense.  Warburton  as- 
serts that  he  collated  the  former  editions,  but  Capell, 
one  of  the  most  accurate  men  that  ever  lived,  says  that 
Warburton  based  his  text  on  that  of  Theobald.  Dr. 
Johnson  stated  the  proper  rule,  but  also  based  his  text 
on  that  of  Theobald.  There  was  no  agreement  as  to 
editorial  method  or  as  to  the  relative  value  of  the 
sources,  nor  was  the  propriety  recognized  of  giving  a 
former  editor  credit  for  his  readings  when  accepted.  In 
this  respect  Theobald  alone  seems  to  have  been  con- 
scientious, though  Warburton  accused  him  of  appro- 
priating his  notes,  a  thing  he  was  unlikely  to  do,  as  he 
would  have  seen  that  the  notes  were  more  discreditable 
than  the  theft. 

The  great  editors,  Capell,  Steevens,  and  Malone,  were 
scholars  in  the  fullest  sense.  All  of  them  were  men  of 
independent  fortunes,  and  devoted  themselves  to  re- 
search from  natural  bias.  Admitting  that  they  pos- 
sessed something  of  the  specialist's  instinct  in  gathering 
materials  without  reference  to  their  value,  their  indus- 
try in  gathering  materials  was  unremitting.   They  ex- 


128        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS   CRITICS 

amined  the  original  texts  with  minute  care  and  printed 
the  conjectural  readings  in  notes  at  the  bottom  of  the 
page,  so  that  the  court  of  inquiry  of  successive  genera- 
tions of  scholars  could  attack  the  task  of  settling  as  far 
as  possible  on  an  accepted  text,  a  task  brought  well 
towards  a  conclusion  by  the  Cambridge  editors  in  the 
middle  of  the  nineteenth  century. 

Edward  Capell  was  the  most  of  an  old-fashioned 
'  antiquary '  of  the  three,  though  Malone  was  not  far 
behind  him.  In  his  ten-volume  edition  of  1768  he  gave 
disputed  readings  in  footnotes,  so  that  his  is  the  first 
'variorum  edition.'  He  revised  the  division  of  the 
plays  into  acts  and  scenes,  observing  carefully  the 
dramatic  principle  that  a  scene  is  a  place,  though  the 
persons  present  may  change. 

He  published  two  books  of  Readings  in  Shahespeare 
(bound  in  one  volume  as  we  have  it)  in  1774,  which 
contained  an  admirable  glossary  of  obsolete  words. 
This  was  withdrawn,  but  republished  after  his  death  in 
three  beautiful  volumes,  the  third  containing  extracts 
from  Elizabethan  books  which  Shakespeare  might  be 
supposed  to  have  read,  and  passages  from  older  books 
illustrating  the  plays.  Capell's  work  is  strictly  Shake- 
spearean scholarship,  as  distinguished  from  Shake- 
spearean criticism,  and  it  is  impossible  to  overestimate 
his  industry  and  conscientiousness.  He  is  said  to  have 
transcribed  the  plays  eight  times  with  his  own  hand. 
He  devised  a  system  of  symbols,  and  he  crowded  so 
much  into  his  notes  that  it  is  sometimes  very  difficult 
to  ascertain  the  point.  No  one  but  a  most  persevering 
specialist  would  attempt  to  decipher  his  meaning.  His 
long  introduction  to  the  plays  is  one  of  the  most  con- 
fused pieces  of  prose  in  the  language.  Dr.  Johnson 
said,  'The  fellow  should  have  come  to  me.  I  would 
have  endowed  his  purpose  with  words.  As  it  is,  he  doth 


LATER   EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  EDITORS    129 

gabble  monstrously.'  But  the  sense  and  learning  of 
Capell  are  everywhere  evident  in  his  ill-formed  sen- 
tences. 

Capell  was  too  much  of  a  gentleman  to  engage  in  the 
personal  controversies  that  engaged  the  attention  of  the 
other  editors  (except  Dr.  Johnson).  He  alludes  to  Rowe, 
Pope,  and  Theobald  as  the  first,  second,  and  third  'of 
the  moderns.'  Like  the  rest  he  fails  to  do  justice  to 
Theobald,  and  he  complains  that  Steevens  plagiarized 
from  his  edition  without  giving  him  credit.  He  left  his 
Shakespearean  collection  to  the  University  of  Cam- 
bridge, and  it  forms  one  of  its  most  valued  treasures. 
The  editors  of  the  Cambridge  Edition  (1865)  say  in 
their  preface  that  in  Capell's  copy  of  the  Second  Folio, 
*  annotated  in  the  margin  with  a  multitude  of  marks  in 
red  ink,'  —  conventional  symbols  showing  how  it  differs 
from  the  First  Folio, — which  they  examined  carefully, 
'  they  hardly  in  a  single  instance  found  him  wrong.' 

QEOBQE  STEEVENS  (1736-1800)  ^ 

Steevens,  the  next  editor,  was  a  man  of  greater  ability 
than  Capell,  and  of  almost  equal  industry.  His  life  was 
devoted  to  Shakespearean  scholarship.  In  1776  he  pub- 
lished twenty  of  the  quartos,  being  as  he  supposed  the 
whole  number  of  those  printed  before  the  Restoration 
that  had  survived.  In  1799  he  published  six  old  plays, 
on  which  Shakespeare  had  founded  Measure  for  Meas- 
ure^ the  Comedy  of  Errors^  the  Taming  of  the  Shrew, 
King  John^  Henry  I F,  and  Henry  V.  He  says, '  As  I 
have  only  collected  materials  for  future  artists,  I  consider 
what  I  have  been  doing  as  no  more  than  an  apparatus 
for  their  use.  .  .  .  My  design  amounted  to  no  more 
than  a  wish  to  encourage  others  to  think  of  preserving 
the  oldest  editions  of  the  English  writers,  which  are 
growing  scarcer  every  day,  and  afford  the  world  all  the 


130        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

assistance  or  pleasure  it  can  receive  from  the  most 
authentic  copies  of  its  noblest  poet.' 

In  1773  he  assisted  Johnson  in  a  new  edition  of  the 
plays  in  ten  volumes.  From  this  time  he  worked  enthusi- 
astically on  his  favorite  author,  a  second  edition  appear- 
ing in  1778,  a  third,  in  which  he  was  assisted  by  Isaac 
Reed,  in  1785,  and  a  fourth  of  fifteen  volumes  in  1793. 
The  name  of  Johnson  was  retained  in  all  these  editions, 
on  account  of  its  commercial  value.  This  last  was 
reissued  under  the  superintendence  of  Mr.  Reed,  in 
twenty-one  volumes,  and  is  really  Steevens's  edition.  It 
was  reprinted  in  our  country  in  1809,  and  contained 
besides  the  plays  a  volume  of  Prolegomena,  The  text 
of  'Johnson  and  Steevens,'  or  'Johnson,  Steevens,  and 
Reed,'  published  in  many  forms,  was  read  by  our  fathers 
and  grandfathers  up  to  the  middle  of  the  century. 

Steevens  was  too  apt  to  adopt  an  unauthorized  read- 
ing for  the  sake  of  regulating  the  versification.  Mr. 
Kemble,  the  great  actor,  said,  '  he  had  no  ear  for  the 
colloquial  metre  of  our  old  dramatists ' ;  but  his  know- 
ledge of  the  costume,  the  manners,  the  language,  and  the 
superstitions  of  the  time  of  Shakespeare  was  very  great, 
and  enabled  him  to  explain  many  obscure  passages.  He 
was  a  man  of  wit  and  of  a  '  sarcastic  and  mischievous 
temper,'  and  has  been  called  the  '  Puck  of  criticism.' 
He  laid  traps  for  other  writers  on  the  subject,  and, 
when  they  fell  into  one,  rejoiced  with  diabolical  glee. 
He  dwelt  with  minuteness  on  any  allusion  to  indelicate 
subjects,  and  attributed  the  notes  on  them  to  two  harm- 
less gentlemen,  Collins  and  Amner,  the  first  a  friend  of 
Capell's  and  the  last  an  exemplary  and  retiring  clergy- 
man. How  he  managed  to  escape  the  penalties  of  the 
English  law  of  libel  does  not  appear.  He  kept  up  the 
traditional  reputation  of  Shakespeare's  editors  by  quar- 
reling with  Malone,  but  learned  to  respect  his  learning. 


LATER  EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  EDITORS    131 

It  was  of  him  that  it  was  written :  *  When  death  by  one 
stroke  and  in  one  moment  makes  such  a  dispersion  of 
knowledge  and  intellect,  when  such  a  man  is  carried  to 
his  grave  —  the  mind  can  feel  but  one  emotion  :  we  con- 
sider the  vanity  of  everything  beneath  the  sun  —  we 
perceive  what  shadows  we  are  and  what  shadows  we  pur- 
sue.' The  poet  Rogers  said,  with  less  feeling  but  more 
point,  'So,  the  old  wolf  is  dead  in  his  den.'  Dr.  John- 
son, who  knew  him  intimately,  said  when  Beauclerc 
had  declared  that  he  was  *  malignant ' :  '  No,  Sir,  he  is 
not  malignant.  He  is  mischievous,  if  you  will.  He  would 
do  no  man  an  essential  injury :  he  may,  indeed,  love  to 
make  sport  of  people  by  vexing  their  vanity.'  This  is 
perhaps  as  charitable  a  judgment  as  can  be  made. 

One  of  Steevens's  hoaxes  is  amusingly  described  by 
Mr.  Lee  in  Shahespeare  and  the  Modern  Stage.  In 
the  Theatrical  Review^  a  short-lived  periodical  of  1763, 
appeared  an  anonymous  biography  of  Edward  AUeyn, 
the  famous  actor  of  Shakespeare's  day.  It  contained 
the  statement  that  — 

A  gentleman  of  honour  and  veracity  in  the  commission 
of  the  peace  for  Middlesex  has  shown  us  a  letter  dated  in  the 
year  1600,  which  he  assures  us  has  been  in  the  possession  of 
his  family  by  the  mother's  side,  for  a  long  series  of  years 
and  which  bears  all  the  marks  of  antiquity. 

The  letter  as  printed  runs :  — 

Friend  Marle,  —  I  must  desyre  that  my  syster  hyr 
watche,  and  the  cookerie  book  you  promysed  be  sent  by  the 
man.  I  never  longed  for  thy  company  more  than  last  night ; 
we  were  all  very  merrye  at  the  Globe,  when  Ned  AUeyn  did 
not  scruple  to  affyrme  pleasantly  to  thy  friend  Will  that  he 
had  stolen  his  speech  about  the  qualityes  of  an  actor's  excel- 
lencye  in  Hamlet  his  tragedye,  from  conversations  manyfold 
and  opinions  given  by  Allen  which  had  passed  between  them 


132        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

touchinge  the  subject.  Shakespeare  did  not  take  this  talke  in 
good  sorte ;  but  Jonson  put  an  end  to  the  stryf e  with  wittilie 
saying,  This  affaire  needeth  no  contentione,  you  stole  it  from 
Ned  no  doubt :  do  not  marvel ;  have  you  not  seen  him  act 
times  without  number  ? 
Believe  me  most  syncerelie 

Harrie 

Thyne,  G.  Peel. 

This  is  palpably  a  forgery.  The  'Believe  me  most 
sincerely  thine '  alone  is  enough  to  condemn  it,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  fact  that  Peele  died  in  1598  and  Shake- 
speare's Hamlet  was  not  played  before  1602.  But  it 
was  copied  into  the  Annual  Register  of  1770,  and  into 
Blographia  Literaria  in  1777.  It  was  shown  to  be 
clearly  spurious  in  D'Israeli's  Curiosities  of  Litera- 
ture in  1839,  but  it  has  appeared  since  in  the  Academy 
of  London  and  in  Poet  Lore  in  our  country.  D'Israeli 
also  gives  Steevens  credit,  though  without  definite  proof, 
for  originating  the  'deadly  upas  tree  of  Java,'  the 
effluvia  from  which  '  spread  desolation  through  a  dis- 
trict of  twelve  or  fourteen  miles*,  affording  a  scene  of 
desolation,'  according  to  the  London  Magazine^  '  be- 
yond what  poets  have  described  or  painters  delineated.' 
It  is  given  there  as  an  'extract  from  the  diary  of  a 
Dutch  traveler,'  who  seems  to  have  been  as  unreal  as 
'  the  gentleman  of  honour  and  veracity '  with  a  '  family 
by  the  mother's  side '  who  communicated  the  letter 
from  '  G.  Peel.'  The  'deadly  upas  tree'  was  a  favorite 
image  for  orators  in  the  early  part  of  the  nineteenth 
century  when  referring  to  the  opposite  party,  but  is 
now  virtually  extinct,  and,  if  not  Steevens's  invention, 
is  worthy  of  him. 

Mr.  Steevens's  preface  to  his  edition  of  1793  is  full 
of  incisive  wit.  It  is  particularly  to  be  noticed  how 
admirably  he  works  quotations  from  the  poet  into  his 


LATER  EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  EDITORS    133 

discourse.  He  discusses  the  portraits  of  Shakespeare 
and  the  engravings  from  the  Droeshout  print,  from 
Howe's  edition,  down  to  Malone's,  twelve  in  number, 
and  remarks  in  an  ojff-hand  manner,  '  No  two  of  these 
portraits  are  alike,  nor  does  any  one  of  them  bear  the 
slightest  resemblance  to  its  wretched  original.'  Such  a 
slapdash  judgment  lessens  our  faith  in  the  writer, 
which  is  almost  demolished  by  the  following  extraordi- 
nary statement :  — 

We  have  not  reprinted  the  Sonnets,  etc.,  of  Shakespeare, 
because  the  strongest  act  of  Parliament  that  could  be  framed 
would  fail  to  compel  readers  into  their  service,  notwithstand- 
ing these  miscellaneous  poems  have  derived  every  possible 
advantage  from  the  literature  and  judgment  of  their  only 
intelligent  editor,  Mr.  Malone,  whose  implements  of  criti- 
cism, like  the  ivory  rake  and  golden  spade  of  Prudentius, 
are  on  this  occasion  disgraced  by  the  objects  of  their  culture. 
Had  Shakespeare  produced  no  other  works  than  these,  his 
name  would  have  reached  us  with  as  little  celebrity  as  time 
has  conferred  on  that  of  Thomas  Watson,  an  older  and  much 
more  elegant  sonneteer. 

The  history  of  criticism  furnishes  few  more  inept 
judgments  than  the  above.  Steevens  says  of  Monck  Ma- 
son, after  praising  some  of  his  strictures  on  a  former  edi- 
tion of  Shakespeare  :  '  Mr.  M.  Mason  will  also  forgive 
us  if  we  add  that  a  small  number  of  his  proposed  amend- 
ments are  suppressed  through  honest  commiseration.' 
Perhaps  Christian  charity  would  have  left  Mr.  Steevens's 
opinion  of  the  Sonnets  in  'its  proper  obscurity,'  for 
Steevens  was  a  great  scholar.  His  expression  was  no 
doubt  due  to  the  fact  that  Malone  had  edited  the  Sonnets. 

EDMUND  MALONE  (1741-1812) 

The  last  of  the  three  Shakespearean  editors  of  the 
latter  eighteenth  century  was  an  Irishman  settled  in 


134        SHAKESPEARE   AND   HIS   CRITICS 

London.  He  was  no  less  industrious  than  Capell,  but 
more  systematic,  and,  if  not  so  brilliant  as  Steevens,  less 
opinionated  and  incisive,  and  covered  more  ground  in 
his  investigation  than  either  of  his  great  contempora- 
ries. In  1778  he  published  An  Attempt  to  Ascertain 
the  Order  in  which  the  Inlays  of  Shakespeare  were 
written ;  and  in  1780  two  volumes,  entitled,  Supple- 
mental Observations  concerning  BrooJce^s  Rendering 
of  the  Italian  Poem^  Romeus  and  Jxdiet;  Shake- 
speare^ s  Poems  and  the  Seven  Doubtful  Plays,  includ- 
ing Pericles.  To  this  was  appended  an  '  Essay  on  the 
English  Stage,'  which  he  afterwards  expanded  with 
minute  and  accurate  learning.  In  1790  his  edition  of 
the  plays  and  poems  was  published'  in  ten  volumes. 
This  included  the  historical  account  above  mentioned, 
and  an  essay  on  the  relations  between  Shakespeare 
and  Ben  Jonson,  and  a  dissertation  on  the  three  parts 
of  Henry  VI. 

Malone  discovered  at  Dulwich  College,  near  Lon- 
don, the  Memorandum  Book  of  Philip  Henslowe,  a 
theatrical  business  man  contemporary  with  Shake- 
speare. '  Discovered  '  is  perhaps  too  strong  a  word,  but 
Malone's  attention  having  been  called  to  it,  he  printed 
considerable  extracts  from  it  and  was  able  to  settle  some 
dates  and  questions  of  authorship.  It  was  edited  by 
Collier  for  the  Shakespeare  Society  in  1856,  but  had 
been  much  mutilated  since  Malone  used  it.  It  contains 
entries  of  the  plays  acted  under  Henslowe's  manage- 
ment, of  the  amounts  received  from  the  performance, 
the  sums  paid  to  the  playwrights,  and  inventories  of 
apparel  and  properties,  and  receipts  with  the  auto- 
graphs of  various  dramatists.  It  is  an  oddly  spelled 
and  confused  lot  of  fragments,  but  establishes  some 
facts  of  minor  importance.  Malone  also  copied  extracts 
from  the  Stratford  Register,  and  from  the  Stationer's 


LATER  EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  EDITORS    135 

Book  —  that  is,  the  record  of  books  allowed  to  be 
printed  —  every  item  he  could  find  that  bore  directly 
or  indirectly  on  the  life  of  the  poet.  He  said  that  he 
could  prove  Howe's  life  erroneous  in  many  particulars. 
This  he  was  unable  to  do,  but  he  corrected  some  mis- 
takes made  by  Rowe  and  added  a  few  insignificant 
facts.  He  regarded  the  First  Folio  as  the  prime  author- 
ity, whereas  Steevens  gave  more  credit  to  the  quartos. 
Relations  between  Steevens  and  Malone  were  strained 
at  one  time,  but  Malone  was  too  accurate  and  well 
grounded  a  commentator  to  make  it  safe  to  attack  him. 
Ritson,  it  is  true,  did  criticise  him  in  a  number  of 
pamphlets  for  his  preference  for  the  First  Folio;  but 
Ritson,  though  far  superior  to  Kendrick,  was  not  strong 
enough  to  make  any  impression  on  the  reputation  of  a 
great  scholar  like  Malone. 

At  his  death  he  left  a  great  number  of  notes  on  the 
text  —  he  was  a  very  careful  and  tireless  collator  — 
and  other  antiquarian  matter  relating  to  Shakespearean 
questions.  These  were  edited  and  seen  through  the 
press  by  James  Boswell,  the  son  of  Dr.  Johnson's  bio- 
grapher. The  edition  is  known  as  '  Malone's  Vario- 
rum,' and  is  an  encyclopaedia  of  all  that  was  known 
about  Shakespeare  at  the  time.  The  footnotes  contain 
comments  and  various  readings,  each  credited  to  the 
proper  author.  The  first,  second,  and  third  volumes 
(^Prolegomena)  are  taken  up  with  the  principal  writ- 
ings connected  with  Shakespeare,  prefaces  to  the 
former  editions,  Dr.  Farmer's  Essay  on  the  learning  of 
Shakespeare,  Rowe's  life,  and  an  examination  by  Ma- 
lone of  portions  of  the  First  and  Second  Folios,  show- 
ing the  great  superiority  of  the  First  in  correctness,  and 
accounting  for  the  errors  in  the  Second.  He  says  that 
the  '  editor  of  the  Second  Folio,  whoever  he  was,  and 
Mr.  Pope  are  the  great  corrupters   of  our  poet's  text.' 


136        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

He  even  says  that  the  Second  Folio  should  never  be 
opened,  but  Steevens  maliciously  points  out  that  he  had 
*  admitted  186  corrections  from  it  into  his  text.'  These 
are  for  the  most  part,  however,  corrections  of  no  im- 
portance, or  such  as  any  one  accustomed  to  reading 
proof  would  make  as  a  matter  of  course.  Malone  would 
admit  no  conjectural  emendations  without  good  collat- 
eral evidence.  He  said  that  the  number  of  unauthor- 
ized emendations  in  Capell's  edition  amounted  to  972. 
This  can  only  be  justified  by  counting  minor  questions 
of  form,  such  as  '  I  am '  for  '  I  'm,'  and  the  like.  Capell 
gave  more  weight  to  the  quartos  than  Malone,  to  whom 
the  First  Folio  was  of  prime  authority. 

Malone  was  honestly  devoted  to  the  task  of  making  a 
text  of  Shakespeare  as  nearly  as  possible  to  represent 
the  words  written  by  the  master,  and  was  not  of  a  com- 
bative disposition,  despite  his  nationality.  Steevens  was 
jealous  of  him  and  made  him  the  target  for  witty  invec- 
tive, but  Malone's  learning  and  exactness  gave  him  a 
slight  advantage  over  his  adversary,  who  surpassed  him 
in  wit  and  literary  power.  There  was  little  of  the  asper- 
ity of  the  day  of  Pope,  Theobald,  and  Warburton  left. 
It  may  be  that  Malone  would  not  have  done  as  much 
work  as  he  did  had  he  not  been  spurred  on  by  the  desire 
to  prove  Steevens  wrong.  '  Principles  not  men '  is  a 
sound  maxim  ethically,  but  a  personal  attack  arouses 
Shakespearean  commentators  to  effort  —  at  least  it  did 
so  in  the  eighteenth  century.  It  is  strange  that  Shake- 
speare, the  most  peaceable  of  the  Elizabethans,  should 
have  been  the  subject  of  a  controversy  he  would  have 
avoided  when  living,  and  that  no  one  should  fight  over 
the  body  of  Ben  Jonson,  who  lived  in  an  atmosphere  of 
combat.  But  our  ancestors,  French  and  English,  always 
used  the  name  of  a  saint  for  a  war-cry. 

Malone's  accurate  knowledge   of   the   Elizabethan 


LATER  EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  EDITORS    137 

drama  enabled  him  to  prove  that  Vortigem^  impudently 
asserted  by  the  author,  Ireland,  to  be  a  genuine  play  of 
Shakespeare's,  was  a  forgery.  He  detected  at  once 
the  spurious  character  of  the  manuscript  poems  the 
poet  Chatterton  produced  and  asserted  to  be  of  the 
fourteenth  century.  Readers  of  Shakespeare,  as  well 
as  scholars,  owe  him  a  great  debt.  He  can  be  forgiven 
for  the  sacrilege  of  putting  a  coat  of  whitewash  on  the 
bust  of  Shakespeare  in  the  Stratford  church,  for  he 
had  a  mania  for  preserving  things  over  a  century 
old. 

After  the  publication  of  Malone's  Variorum  and 
the  Johnson-Steevens-Reed  edition,  the  elucidation  of 
Shakespeare's  text  became  more  scientific.  The  sources 
aud  the  authoritative  dissertations  were  accessible  to  aU. 
Comparison  could  readily  be  made  between  all  sug- 
gested readings.  The  canons  of  criticism  were  well  es- 
tablished. Futile  and  licentious  conjectures  were  still 
made,  but  they  commanded  little  attention.  The  com- 
mentaries of  Seymour  and  Becket  were  more  absurd 
than  anything  that  had  appeared  before,  but  they  were 
disregarded.  A  printer,  Zachary  Jackson,  who  had  cor- 
rected a  great  deal  of  proof,  was  able  to  show  how  some 
of  the  errors  in  the  original  texts  had  originated  in 
mistakes  of  the  compositor.  When  he  steps  beyond  this 
narrow  province,  he  falls  into  ludicrous  errors.  For 
instance,  quoting  Ursula's  words  in  Much  Ado  About 
Nothing,  ill,  i :  — 

Signior  Benedick, 
For  shape,  for  bearing,  argument  and  valour 
Goes  foremost  in  report  through  Italy, 

Mr.  Jackson  remarks  from  the  depths  of  domestic 
experience : — 

Argument  is  the  very  worst  recommendation  to  a  lady's 


138        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

love,  as  it  is  not  only  productive  of  serious  quarrels  abroad, 
but  also  the  strongest  poison  to  domestic  happiness. 
Our  author  wrote  :  — 

Siguier  Benedick 
For  shape,  forbearing  argument,  and  valour 
Goes  foremost  in  report  through  Italy.' 

Thus  the  recommendation  is  strong,  he  ever  forbears 
argument  in  order  to  avoid  dissension:  Such  endowments, 
I  think  could  not  fail  of  finding  sufficient  influence  in  the 
heart  of  Beatrice. 

Again,  in  Troilus  and  Cressida,  AJexander  says :  — 

Hector,  whose  patience 
Is  as  a  virtue  fixed,  to-day  was  moved. 

Jackson  says,  — 

We  should  read :  — 

Hector,  whose  patience 
Is  as  a  vulture  fixed,  to-day  was  moved. 

Thus  the  patience  of  Hector  is  compared  to  the  Vulture, 
which  never  moves  from  the  object  of  its  insatiate  gluttony 
till  it  has  entirely  devoured  it. 

These  things  belong  to  the  humor  of  Shakespearean 
criticism,  and  need  be  pursued  no  further.  Even  in 
our  own  country  not  many  years  ago  a  commentator 
full  of  praiseworthy  reverence  for  the  First  Folio, 
extending  to  the  most  palpable  errors  of  punctuation, 
interpreted  Perdita's  words  which  read :  — 

O  Doricles, 
Your  praises  are  too  large ;  but  that  your  youth 
And  the  true  blood  which  peepeth  fairly  through  it, 
Do  plainly  give  you  out  an  unstained  shepherd, 
With  wisdom,  I  might  fear,  my  Doricles, 
You  woo'd  me  the  false  way. 


LATER  EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  EDITORS     139 

Even  with  the  above  original  faulty  punctuation  the 
construction  is  plain  enough.  '  With  wisdom '  qualifies 
'  I  might  fear/  but  the  commentator  in  question  in- 
sists that  '  with  wisdom '  qualifies  '  unstained,'  that 
Perdita  means  that  her  lover  is  a  shepherd  untainted 
with  worldly  wisdom.  That  is  equal  to  anything  of 
Warburton's  or  Jackson's. 

But  common  sense  has  been  the  rule  since  the  eight- 
eenth century.  Discussion  is  conducted  on  scientific 
principles.  Research  has  cleared  up  many  obscure  allu- 
sions, and  every  accessible  record  that  could  throw  any 
light  on  the  social  or  theatrical  history  of  the  times 
has  been  scrutinized.  It  is  possible  that  some  may  yet 
be  unearthed  which  may  disclose  facts  of  minor  im- 
portance. Some  one  may  appear  who  is  possessed  of 
the  divining  power  of  Theobald,  and  solve  one  or  more 
of  the  cruxes  in  a  way  that  shall  command  immediate 
assent.  The  day  of  patching  the  text  is  past,  thanks 
to  Capell,  Steevens,  and  Malone. 

During  the  first  half  of  the  nineteenth  century  the 
editions  of  Staunton,  Singer,  Collier,  Knight,  and  Dyce 
were  the  work  of  conscientious  scholars.  Some  of  them 
gave  more  weight  to  the  First  Folio,  and  some  were 
inclined  to  regard  the  quartos  as  of  equal  or  greater 
authority.  The  First  Folio  and  the  quartos  were  repro- 
duced in  facsimile,  making  the  originals  accessible  to 
all.  In  1852  Mr.  Collier  announced  that  he  had  dis- 
covered a  copy  of  the  Second  Folio,  copiously  annotated 
in  the  margin,  and  that  the  corrections  were  appar- 
ently made  soon  after  the  publication  of  the  book, 
1632.  If  so,  the  notes  would  be  of  high  authority,  as 
the  writer  could  have  heard  the  original  delivered  on 
the  stage  by  actors  who  received  instructions  directly 
from  the  mouth  of  Shakespeare.  Great  expectations 
were  aroused,  but  the  publication  of  the  volume  proved 


140        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

a  disappointment.  Experts  showed  that  the  notes  were 
in  the  handwriting  of  at  least  two  persons,  and  not 
necessarily  of  great  antiquity,  possibly  of  the  early 
eighteenth  century.  Analysis  proved  that,  of  the  large 
number  of  erasures  and  marginal  corrections,  many 
were  unimportant,  some  were  anticipated  by  Theobald, 
many  others  were  to  be  found  in  the  First  Folio, 
and  the  rest  were  obviously  erroneous.  Richard  Grant 
White  called  attention  to  the  fact  that  the  annotator 
inserted  in  Lovers  Labour 's  Lost  a  stage  direction  to 
Biron,  '  gets  him  into  a  tree,'  ^  which  could  not  have 
been  written  before  1662,  and  probably  was  written 
much  later,  since  '  practicable '  scenery  was  not  intro- 
duced on  the  stage  till  after  that  date.  Of  the  1303 
new  readings  proposed  in  the  notes,  he  showed  that 
1013  were  palpably  inadmissible,  and  173  were  already 
received,  leaving  but  117  as  plausible,  from  which  to 
select  such  as  were  satisfactory.  None  of  the  really 
difficult  cruxes  are  explained.  It  would  seem  as  if  the 
notes  were  made  by  some '  ingenious  gentleman,'  inter- 
ested in  the  poet  early  in  the  eighteenth  century.  With 
the  failure  of  these  notes  to  unlock  any  of  the  puzzles, 
all  hopes  of  a  contemporary  annotated  edition  perished. 
The  great  event  of  the  nineteenth  century  was  the 
publication  of  the  Cambridge  Edition,  begun  under  the 
editorship  of  George  Clark  and  John  Glover  and  com- 
pleted under  the  editorship  of  Clark  and  William  Aldis 
Wright.  The  text  is  an  extremely  conservative  one,  and 
is  prepared  with  great  care.  No  passage  is  emended 

1  *Gets  up  into  a  tree'  was  substituted  for  *he  stands  aside,* 
by  Capell,  who  was  followed  by  Johnson  and  Steevens  and  all 
editors  except  those  of  the  Cambridge  Edition.  This  does  not  in 
the  least  weaken  Mr.  White's  argument,  in  fact  strengthens  it, 
for  Capell  could  not  have  seen  the  Collier  folio,  and  the  annotator 
might  have  seen  Capell's  edition. 


LATER  EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY   EDITORS     141 

simply  because  it  is  unintelligible  and  conjecture  may 
afford  a  plausible  meaning,  unless  probability  favors  the 
change.  As  an  example  of  a  change  admitted  but  just 
on  the  line  of  rejection,  in  Homeo  and  Juliet,  I,  i, 
line  156,  Benvolio  says  that  Romeo  is 

so  secret  and  so  close,  .  .  . 
As  is  the  bud,  bit  with  an  envious  worm 
Ere  he  can  spread  his  sweet  leaves  to  the  air, 
Or  dedicate  his  beauty  to  the  same. 
The  word  'same'  gives  a  clear  meaning,  but  it  is  dread- 
fully commonplace  and  un-Shakespearean.    Theobald 
proposed  i  *"  And  dedicate  his  beauty  to  the  sun,''  which 
was  followed  by  all  the  editors  except  Malone,  and  Col- 
lier in  his  first  edition.  Collier  afterwards  adopted  the 
reading  '  sun '  on  the  authority  of  the  manuscript  an- 
notator.  The  Cambridge  Edition  reads  'sun,'  probably 
on  the  ground  that  the  word  was  originally  written 
'  sunne,'  which  the  compositor  could  readily  mistake  for 
*same.'    There  must  be  an  explanation  of  the  mistake. 
It  is  not  enough  that  the  change  improves  the  poetry. 

The  Cambridge  text  is  taken  as  the  basis  of  most  of 
the  modern  popular  editions,  whose  name  is  legion. 

The  Shakespeare  scholar  editors  in  our  country  are 
Gulian  C.  Verplanck,  whose  handsomely  illustrated  edi- 
tion came  out  in  1847,  and  Richard  Grant  White,  a  very 
excellent  though  rather  opinionated  commentator.  His 
first  edition  was  published  1857-65,  and  his  second, 
in  which  he  receded  from  some  of  the  readings  given  in 
the  first,  in  1883.  This  is  called  the  Riverside  Edition, 
and  is  a  beautiful  specimen  of  bookmaking.  The  monu- 
mental Variorum  of  Dr.  Furness  is  in  the  course  of 
publication.  A  large  octavo  is  devoted  to  each  play  (two 
to  Hamlet).  The  text  is  sometimes  that  of  the  folio,  and 
sometimes  based  on  that  of  the  Cambridge  Edition. 
Below  the  text  are  given  all  the  readings  of  the  authori- 


142        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

ties  and  of  the  principal  editors.  Beneath  are  conjec- 
tural explanations  and  suggestions,  each  credited  to  its 
author.  In  an  appendix  are  treatises  on  the  text,  on  the 
date  of  appearance,  copies  of  rare  quartos,  reprints  of 
the  original  stories,  and  copious  extracts  from  dramatic 
and  literary  critics,  —  a  complete  Shakespearean  li- 
brary. When  this  great  edition  is  complete,  neither  the 
ordinary  reader  interested  in  Shakespearean  questions 
nor  the  specialist  will  need  any  other  apparatus  criti- 
cus,  for  the  first  can  obtain  from  it  all  the  valuable 
information  he  needs,  and  the  second  can  find  full  refer- 
ences to  the  original  authorities  to  be  looked  up  in  some 
great  library. 

There  is,  however,  no  absolutely  authoritative  text, 
nor  is  it  likely  that  there  ever  will  be  one,  unless  a  com- 
mittee of  the  leading  scholars  of  England,  Germany, 
and  America  were  formed  to  deliberate,  exchange  views, 
and  vote  on  all  disputed  points.  It  is  not  likely  that 
such  a  body  will  ever  be  formed  ;  and  even  if  it  should 
be,  the  results  of  the  labors  of  the  revisers  of  the  Eng- 
lish Bible  give  no  surety  that  the  decision  of  the  ma- 
jority would  be  acceptable  to  the  great  body  of  the 
lovers  of  Shakespeare.  A  great  writer  cannot  be  cor- 
rected in  vital  points  except  by  himself.  Originality  is 
the  mark  of  his  style,  and  it  would  be  as  difficult  for 
the  best  of  his  contemporaries  to  fill  out  a  lapsed  line  as 
it  is  for  one  of  us.  We  have  a  text  in  which  many 
thousands  of  evident  corrections  and  a  few  happy  con- 
jectural emendations  have  been  made.  Shakespeare's 
works  are  accessible  to  all  very  nearly  in  the  form  in 
which  he  wrote  them.  He  is  substantially  intelligible, 
—  that  is,  as  intelligible  as  any  great  soul  can  be  to  his 
fellow  men.  At  best,  language  has  its  limitations  as  a 
medium  of  communication  on  the  mysterious  matters 
which  possessed  the  poet's  consciousness. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  LATE  EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  ESSAYISTS 
MKS.  MONTAGU   (1720-1800) 

Besides  the  criticism  contained  in  the  prefaces  to  the 
successive  editions  of  the  eighteenth  century,  —  which 
might  be  supposed  to  be  more  favorable  than  the  general 
judgment  of  the  literary  circles,  —  a  number  of  inde- 
pendent papers  had  been  published  dealing  with  special 
textual  points,  and  others  reflecting  the  attitude  of 
scholarly  cliques.  Those  of  Gildon  and  Rymer  have 
been  mentioned,  and  the  sequence  of  the  others  is  fol- 
lowed out  minutely  in  Lounsbury's  Shahespeare  as  a 
Dramatic  Artist.  The  opinion  that  the  disregard  of 
classic  form  and  the  combining  of  serious  and  comic 
elements  in  a  tragedy  were  radical  faults,  grew  gradually 
weaker.  The  increasing  interest  taken  in  the  plays  as 
poetry,  and  the  sustained  interest  taken  in  their  pre- 
sentation, were  too  strong  arguments  for  the  advocates 
of  classic  theory.  The  attack  by  Voltaire  on  the  Eng- 
lish dramatist  as  a  wild  barbarian,  in  the  first  half  of 
the  century,  in  itself  vicious  and  unreasonable,  was  re- 
sented as  an  arraignment  of  the  taste  of  the  English 
nation*  Patriotism  forced  the  classicists  to  oppose  his 
views,  as  it  had  forced  Catholic  and  Protestant  Eng- 
lishmen to  unite  against  the  invasion  threatened  by  the 
Spanish  Armada.  When  they  took  a  position  favorable 
to  the  national  poet  it  was  easy  to  find  good  arguments 
to  sustain  it.  In  1767  the  Honorable  Mrs.  Montagu,  a 
grande  dame  with  a  taste  for  literature,  published  an 
essay.  On  the  Writings  and  Genius  of  Shakespeare 
compared  with  the  Greek  and  French  Dramatic  Poets, 


144        SHAKESPEARE   AND  HIS   CRITICS 

with  some  Remarks  on  the  Misrepresentations  of  M.  de 
Voltaire.  She  says :  — 

I  was  incited  to  the  undertaking  by  the  great  admiration 
of  Shakespeare's  genius  and  still  greater  indignation  at  the 
treatment  he  had  received  from  a  French  wit,  who  seems  to 
tiiink  he  has  made  prodigious  concessions  to  our  prejudices 
in  favor  of  the  works  of  our  countrymen  in  allowing  them 
the  credit  of  a  few  splendid  passages,  while  he  speaks  of  every 
entire  piece  as  a  monstrous  and  ill-constructed  farce. 

Nevertheless,  Mrs.  Montagu  excuses  Shakespeare  on 
the  ground  of  the  unpolished  character  of  his  age,  which 
*  the  examples  of  judicious  artists  and  the  admonitions 
of  delicate  connoisseurs  had  not  taught  that  only  grace- 
ful nature  and  decent  customs  give  proper  subjects  for 
imitation.'  She  attacks  the  French  tragedies  of  Corneille 
and  Racine  as  stilted  and  unnatural,  and  her  chapter 
on  '  The  Praeternatural  Beings '  does  not  hesitate  to 
claim  great  artistic  superiority  for  the  Englishman  over 
^schylus.  Had  she  read  the  play  of  Voltaire,  in  which 
he  attempts  to  emulate  Hamlet  and  creates  the  most 
absurd  ghost  in  literature,  she  could  have  retorted  on 
him  with  cutting  effect.  Through  Mrs.  Montagu's  188 
pages  the  waning  influence  of  the  classic  school  of  criti- 
cism is  evident.  It  does  not  occur  to  her  that  there  may 
be  two  schools  of  literature,  each  admirable,  neither  to 
be  judged  by  rules  induced  from  the  examples  of  the 
other,  but  both  by  their  success  in  producing  beautiful 
works  of  art  and  by  their  hold  on  successive  generations 
of  men.  Dr.  Johnson,  according  to  Boswell,  said  that 
there  '  was  not  a  word  of  true  criticism  in  Mrs.  Mon- 
tagu's Shakespearean  Essay';  an  ungallant  judgment, 
to  say  the  least.  According  to  the  same  authority,  how- 
ever, he  said  that  'she  diffuses  more  knowledge  than 
any  woman  I  know,  or,  indeed,  almost  any  man ' ;  in 
which,  unless  Mrs.  Montagu's  conversation  was  vastly 


LATE  EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  ESSAYISTS    145 

superior  to  her  book,  he  was  more  polite  and  less  frank 
than  his  wont. 

In  the  year  1794,  R.  W.  Richardson,  Professor  of 
Humanity  at  the  University  of  Glasgow,  brought  out  a 
small  book  of  187  pages  entitled  Philosophical  Analy^ 
sis  of  some  of  Shakespeare^ s  Remarkable  Characters, 
This  is  the  first  of  a  long  line  of  books  and  essays  on 
the  subject,  and  was  reprinted  in  Boston  in  1808 ;  it  was 
the  first  book  of  literary  criticism  printed  in  America. 
Since  then,  Shakespeare's  literary  characters  have  been 
written  about  more  fully  than  any  historical  personages, 
with  the  possible  exceptions  of  Napoleon  Bonaparte  and 
Mary  Queen  of  Scots. 

The  style  of  the  book  imitates  Dr.  Johnson's  senten- 
tious utterance,  but  lacks  the  wit  and  pith  which  give 
the  original  his  rank  among  great  writers.  The  opening 
sentences  run  :  — 

Moralists  of  all  ages  have  recommended  poetry  as  an  art 
no  less  instructive  than  amusing  ;  tending  at  once  to  improve 
the  heart,  and  entertain  the  fancy.  The  genuine  and  original 
poet,  peculiarly  favored  by  nature,  and  intimately  acquainted 
with  the  constitution  of  the  human  mind,  not  by  a  long  train 
of  metaphysical  deductions,  but,  as  it  were,  by  immediate  in- 
tuition, displays  the  workings  of  every  affection,  detects  the 
origin  of  every  passion,  traces  its  progress,  and  delineates  its 
character.  Thus  he  teaches  us  to  know  ourselves,  inspires  us 
with  magnanimous  sentiments,  animates  love  of  virtue,  and 
confirms  our  hatred  of  vice.  Moreover,  by  his  striking  pic- 
tures of  the  instability  of  human  enjoyments,  we  moderate 
the  vehemence  of  our  desires,  fortify  our  minds,  and  are  en- 
abled to  sustain  adversity. 

This  is  the  very  quintessence  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury ;  a  very  characteristic  point  being  the  implied  as- 
sumption that  any  one  can  become '  intimately  acquainted 


146        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

with  the  constitution  of  the  human  mind  by  a  long 
train  of  metaphysical  deductions,'  in  the  face  of  the  evi- 
dent fact  that  the  long  train  must  start  from  '  some  inti- 
mate acquaintance  with  the  human  mind '  unless  some 
knowledge  was  revealed  a  'priori,  Mr.  Richardson  pro- 
ceeds to  dissect  Hamlet  by  Scotch  metaphysics,  in  which 
human  nature  is  mapped  out  in  a  mechanical  scheme 
and  the  '  passions '  and  the  '  moral  principles '  contend 
to  control  the  will,  like  hostile  forces  in  a  foreign  coun- 
try, one  or  the  other  obtaining  temporarily  exclusive 
possession  and  driving  the  other  out.  The  question  with 
regard  to  Hamlet  has  always  been,  why  does  he  not  act 
as  he  is  requested  to  do  by  his  father  ?  There  is  no  rea- 
son why  he  should  not.  As  he  says,  he  has  '  cause  and 
will  and  strength  and  means  to  do  it.'  The  question  is 
attractive  because  Hamlet  is  so  interesting  and  intelli- 
gent a  man,  and  he  is  so  evidently  a  man  that  it  is  cer- 
tain there  is  a  rational  explanation  of  his  conduct  — 
rational,  that  is,  as  far  as  human  character  is  rational 
or  the  will  motive-driven  and  not  fortuitous.  Mr.  Rich- 
ardson explains  Hamlet's  failure  to  act,  in  the  scene 
when  he  refrains  from  killing  his  uncle  at  prayer,  by 
saying  that  just  then  he  was '  irresolute,'  —  that  is  to  say, 
his  passion,  thirst  for  revenge,  and  his  moral  sense  of 
justice  exactly  balanced  one  another.  Therefore  he  did 
not  stab  his  uncle,  nor  did  he  give  up  the  idea  of  doing 
so.  To  give  Mr.  Richardson's  words  :  — 

You  ask  me  why  he  did  not  kill  the  usurper  ?  and  I  an- 
swer because  he  was  at  that  moment  irresolute.  This  irresolu- 
tion arose  from  the  inherent  principles  of  his  constitution,  and 
is  to  be  accounted  natural ;  it  arose  from  virtuous,  or  at  least 
from  amiable  sensibility,  and  therefore  cannot  be  blamed.  His 
sense  of  justice  or  his  feelings  of  tenderness,  in  a  moment 
when  his  violent  emotions  were  not  excited,  overcame  his  re- 
sentment 


LATE  EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  ESSAYISTS    147 

The  reason  Hamlet  gives  for  his  failure  Mr.  Richard- 
son says  is  not  the  true  one :  'On  many  occasions  we 
allege  those  considerations  as  the  motives  for  our  con- 
duct which  are  not  the  true  ones.'  We  do,  indeed,  espe- 
cially when  we  are  ashamed  of  ourselves,  but  not  often 
in  soliloquy ;  nor  do  we  ever  say, '  I  was  precisely  bal- 
anced in  motive,  like  Buridon's  ass  between  two  equi- 
distant and  equally  attractive  bundles  of  hay.*  "We 
know  perfectly  well  that  the  ass  could  have  shut  one 
eye  by  an  effort  of  will.  But  we  can  hardly  expect  a 
Scotch  metaphysician  of  the  school  of  Reed,  loyal  to 
his  wooden  and  systematic  psychology,  to  solve  so  in- 
tricate a  problem  as  the  genesis  of  motive  and  the  con- 
nection between  character  and  action  in  Shakespeare's 
Hamlet.  The  terms  of  his  psychology — the  *  affections,' 
the  '  passions,'  the  *  moral  principles,'  and  the  like  — 
are  at  once  too  inclusive  and  too  nebulous  to  discuss  the 
delicate  elements  of  personality,  and  his  style,  dealing 
as  it  does  largely  in  general  terms,  does  not  lend  itself 
to  the  delineation  of  individual  traits  when  they  are  so 
perplexing  and  obscure. 

He  is,  however,  right  as  to  the  substratum  of  the 
character  of  Hamlet,  and  in  this  is  in  advance  of  many 
of  his  successors.  He  says  (page  54)  :  *  The  strongest 
feature  in  the  mind  of  Hamlet,  as  exhibited  in  the  tra- 
gedy, is  an  exquisite  sense  of  moral  conduct.'  Again 
(page  28)  :  '  He  is  moved  by  finer  principles,  by  an 
exquisite  sense  of  virtue,  of  moral  beauty,  and  turpitude.' 
This  is  true ;  for  though  it  may  be  difficult  to  reconcile 
Hamlet's  conduct  in  some  instances,  notably  his  sending 
Rosencrantz  and  Guildenstern  to  death  by  means  of  a 
forged  document,  with  the  idea  of  a  passionate  devotion 
to  justice,  it  is  evident  that  violation  of  the  moral  law 
governing  the  relation  of  the  sexes  is  profoundly  abhor- 
rent to  him,  and  that  the  knowledge  of  the  guilt  of  his 


148        SHAKESPEARE  AND   HIS   CRITICS 

mother  casts  him  into  an  utter  agony  in  which  the  action 
of  his  mind  is  confused,  spasmodic,  and  contradictory. 
This  refinement  is  also  shown  by  his  disgust  with 
drunken  excesses,  and  it  goes  far  to  establish  the  propo- 
sition that  in  Shakespeare's  conception  he  was  a  young 
man,  as  he  is  in  the  original  story,  and  called  thirty- 
one  to  agree  with  the  personality  of  the  great  actor, 
Burbage.  In  a  man  of  thirty-one  the  first  bloom  of 
enthusiasm  for  virtue  is  worn  off  by  the  disillusionment 
of  time,  but  Hamlet  exhibits  the  feelings  of  a  pure- 
minded,  delicately-nurtured  boy,  not  made  cynical  by 
premature  worldly  experience.  The  pedantic  Edinburgh 
professor  feels  the  charm  of  Hamlet's  moral  character, 
as  thousands  of  others  have  done,  unconsciously.  When 
he  endeavors  to  give  some  rational  explanation  of  his 
actions  he  fails,  as  we  have  seen,  most  lamentably. 
He  is  struck  by  the  fact  that  though,  — 

in  the  progress  of  the  tragedy  he  appears  irresolute  and  in- 
decisive —  discovers  reluctance  to  perform  actions,  which,  we 
think,  needed  no  hesitation  —  proceeds  to  violent  outrage 
where  the  occasion  does  not  seem  to  justify  evidence  —  ap- 
pears jocular  where  his  situation  is  most  serious  and  alarm- 
ing—  uses  subterfuges  not  consistent  with  an  ingenuous  mind, 
and  expresses  sentiments  not  only  immoral  but  inhuman,  yet 
every  reader  and  every  audience  have  hitherto  taken  part 
with  Hamlet.  They  have  not  only  pitied,  but  esteemed  him ; 
and  the  voice  of  the  people^  in  poetry  as  well  as  politics, 
deserves  some  attention. 

To  admit  that  the  '  voice  of  the  people  deserves  some 
attention '  is  very  liberal  in  an  eighteenth-century  pro- 
fessor. The  problem  of  Hamlet  is  well  stated.  It  is  the 
question  that  puzzles  us  to-day.  Mr.  Richardson  cannot 
solve  it,  nor  can  the  latest  commentators  solve  it  to  our 
perfect  satisfaction,  but  it  has  a  permanent  attraction 
because  it  cannot  be  completely  solved  —  we  cannot 


LATE   EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  ESSAYISTS    149 

pluck  the  heart  out  of  his  mystery  any  more  than  we 
can  from  the  mystery  of  life.  He  takes  the  ground  that 
Hamlet's  insanity  is  feigned,  though  his  mind  is  in  a 
'  condition  of  extreme  agitation,'  therein  agreeing  with 
the  best  authorities  on  mental  disorders.  He  says  that 
Hamlet  'practices  his  artifice'  on  Ophelia  in  the  un- 
spoken interview  when,  '  his  doublet  all  imbraced,  his 
stockings  fouled,'  he 'came  before'  her.  It  seems  more 
likely  that  Hamlet  was  much  hurt  when  Ophelia,  whom 
he  had  idealized,  and  in  a  certain  sense  loved,  persist- 
ently refused  to  see  him,  in  obedience  to  her  father's 
commands.  He  therefore  resolved  to  see  her,  and,  one 
glance  revealing  her  timid  and  shallow  soul,  gave  her 
up  forever.  It  is  certainly  absurd  to  suppose  that  he 
went  to  see  her  to  practice  his  acting  of  insanity. 

In  subsequent  chapters  Mr.  Richardson  analyzes  the 
characters  of  Macbeth,  Lear,  Richard  III,  Jaques, 
Timon,  and  Imogen  on  the  same  principles  he  applied 
to  Hamlet.  He  fails  to  appreciate  the  power  of  Lear 
and  Macbeth,  and  his  methodical  analysis  does  not  dis- 
close the  human  nature  of  any  of  the  dramatic  figures. 
His  chapter  on  Imogen  is  the  first  acknowledgment  by 
a  critic  of  the  beauty  of  Shakespeare's  women,  but  he 
misses  a  full  perception  of  the  high-bred  purity  and 
sweet  dignity  of  her  nature.  Dr.  Johnson  was  also 
blind  to  these  delicate  creations,  however,  and  Schlegel 
and  Coleridge  were  soon  to  do  them  justice. 

The  last  chapter  is  devoted  to  the  '  Faults  of  Shake- ' 
speare.'  These  are  summarized  as,  'inattention  to  the 
laws  of  unity,  deviations  from  geographical  and  histori- 
cal truth,  rude  mixture  of  tragic  and  comic  scenes,  to- 
gether with  the  vulgarity  and  even  indecency  of  lan- 
guage admitted  too  often  into  his  dialogue.'  That  the 
unities  were  necessary  had  been  pretty  well  discredited 
during  the  discussions  induced  by  the  attacks  of  Vol- 


150        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

taire  on  the  English  poet,  and  the  author  admits  that 
'some  departure  from  the  strict  rules  of  unity  enacted 
by  ancient  critics,  and  some  deviation  from  the  sim- 
plicity of  Grecian  poets,  is  no  loss  to  the  drama,'  but 
adds,  '  Shakespeare,  however,  by  having  known  them, 
and  by  having  adhered  to  them  in  some  degree,  would 
have  been  less  irregular  and  incoherent.'  He  also  con- 
siders his  historical  and  geographical  mistakes  of  no 
great  moment,  but  is  shocked  by  the  bad  taste  of  bring- 
ing comic  scenes  into  a  tragedy  and  representing  people 
of  high  social  station  as  vulgar  in  language.  He  ad- 
mits that  they  sometimes  are  so  in  real  life,  and  might 
possibly  be  realistically  represented  in  comedy,  but 
'  the  solemn  in  dramatical  composition  should  be  kept 
apart  from  the  ludicrous,'  because  the  mind  is  pained 
and  distracted  by  '  pouring  in  upon  us  at  once  or  in 
immediate  succession  opposite  feelings  though  in  them- 
selves agreeable.'  Taking  a  fact  for  granted  and  then 
finding  a  philosophic  explanation  for  it  is  not  unknown 
in  metaphysics.  It  never  occurs  to  Mr.  Richardson  that, 
if  people  were  pained  and  distracted  by  the  graveyard 
scene  in  Hamlet  or  the  porter  scene  in  Macbeth^  they 
would  stay  away  from  the  play.  On  the  contrary,  they 
have  always  insisted  on  their  representation,  as  if  they 
enjoyed  being  'pained  and  distracted.'  The  fault  of 
the  dramatist  being  taken  for  granted,  the  critic  ac- 
counts for  it  by  saying  that  his  theory  was,  'follow 
nature.'  '  This  is  an  excellent  maxim,'  but  '  Shake- 
speare misunderstood  it.'  According  to  Dr.  Richardson, 
nature  should  be  followed,  not  as  she  is,  but  as  she 
should  be.  An  artificial  nature  should  be  evolved  by 
selection.  Taste  must  be  exerted. 

If  we  would  describe  a  cheerful  landscape,  we  will  avoid 
mentioning  the  gloomy  forests  or  deep  morasses  which  may 
actually  exist  in  it.  In  like  manner,  if  we  would  dispose  our 


LATE  EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  ESSAYISTS    161 

audience  to  entertain  sentiments  of  veneration  for  some  re- 
spectable personage,  we  will  throw  into  the  shade  those  levi- 
ties which  may  have  place  in  his  character  but  which  lessen 
his  dignity.  .  .  .  When  a  judicious  improver  covers  a  bleak 
heath  with  enlivening  groves,  or  removes  the  dreariness  of  a 
noisome  fen,  by  changing  it  into  a  lovely  lake,  interspersed 
with  islands,  can  we  accuse  him  of  departing  from  nature  ? 
In  like  manner,  the  poet  who  excludes  from  tragedy  mean 
persons  and  vulgar  language,  because  they  are  dissonant  to 
the  general  tone  of  his  work,  neither  violates  nature  nor  tres- 
passes against  the  great  obligation  he  is  under  of  affording  us 
pleasure. 

.  .  .  Though,  like  Polonius,  statesmen  and  courtiers  may, 
on  various  occasions,  be  very  wise  and  very  foolish  ;  yet, 
whatever  indulgence  may  be  shown  to  the  courtiers  and 
statesmen  of  real  life,  those  of  the  drama  must  be  of  an  uni- 
form and  consistent  conduct. 

All  this  is  an  epitome  of  the  eighteenth-century 
view  of  art.  The  representation  of  life  on  the  historic 
or  the  tragic  plane  must  at  all  hazards  be  dignified  and 
correct.  Selection  must  be  made,  not  of  the  character- 
istic or  the  intimately  true,  but  of  that  which  accords 
with  a  certain  ideal  of  stately  social  bearing.  That 
dramas  constructed  on  this  principle  are  lifeless  and 
dull  does  not  occur  to  Mr.  Richardson ;  perhaps  they 
were  not  tiresome  to  him,  but,  as  he  says,  '  the  voice  of 
the  people  deserves  some  attention,'  and  he  pays  it 
none  at  all.  He  seems  to  respect  the  rule,  'follow 
nature,'  but  evades  it  by  making  nature  unnatural. 

More  extension  has  been  given  to  a  review  of  Mr. 
Richardson's  book  than  its  intrinsic  merit  demands, 
because  it  shows  that  the  superstitious  regard  for  the 
unities  was  dying  out  even  in  academic  circles,  and 
because  it  is  the  first  attempt  to  analyze  any  Shake- 
spearean characters  as  if  they  were  real  human  beings, 
although  he  turns  around  and  argues  that  they  ought 


152        SHAKESPEARE  AND   HIS   CRITICS 

to  be  unnatural  and  unreal.  His  statement  that  the 
basis  of  Hamlet's  character  '  is  an  exquisite  sense  of 
virtue '  meets  the  approval  of  the  best  modern  critics, 
although  he  does  not  understand  the  confusing  com- 
plex of  contradictory  traits  which  overlay  it.  But  per- 
haps no  one  but  Shakespeare  could  read  that  baffling 
psychological  phenomenon,  and  very  likely  he  could 
not  do  so.  A  pioneer  —  for  we  cannot  admit  that  Dr. 
Johnson  even  opened  the  subject  —  is  entitled  to  re- 
spect, and  awakens  an  interest  greater  than  his  accom- 
plishment warrants.  Mr.  Richardson  is  a  pioneer, 
though  he  penetrated  a  very  little  way. 

THE  COM-TKOVERSY  ABOUT  SHAKESPEARE'S 
LEARNING 

In  the  eighteenth  century  there  was  a  disposition  in 
many  members  of  the  scholarly  and  critical  world  to 
assert  that  Shakespeare  was  a  man  of  learning  in  the 
technical  sense.  The  value  of  a  classical  education 
seemed  to  be  in  question,  for  if  a  man  could  produce 
such  fine  literature  without  education,  of  what  use  was 
a  knowledge  of  Latin  and  Greek  or  even  a  univer- 
sity degree?  It  was  intolerable  to  think  that  a  man  by 
natural  ability  alone  could  outdo  graduates  trained  to 
write  verse  in  Latin,  the  native  language  of  poetry. 
The  apt  use  the  dramatist  makes  of  classical  history 
and  mythology,  and  the  ease  of  his  incidental  allusions 
to  both,  seem  to  imply  the  familiarity  begotten  of  inti- 
mate acquaintance,  and  to  sustain  the  natural  desire  to 
affiliate  him  with  the  academic  world.  Admitting  that 
he  violated  the  rules  as  no  educated  man  should,  it 
must  be  proved  for  the  credit  of  learning  that  his 
'  small  Latin  and  less  Greek '  was  enough  to  give  him 
considerable  acquaintance  with  Latin  writers  in  the 
original. 


LATE  EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY   ESSAYISTS    153 

Rowe  thought  that  '  his  acquaintance  with  Latin  au- 
thors was  such  as  he  might  have  gained  at  school ;  he 
could  remember  tags  of  Horace  or  Virgil,  but  was 
unable  to  read  Plautus  in  the  original.'  Gildon  believed 
that  the  poet  had  read  Ovid  and  Plautus.  Dennis,  a 
man  of  strong  sense,  denied  that  he  '  had  learning  and 
a  familiar  acquaintance  with  the  Ancients.'  Pope  is 
rather  cautious  in  his  statements,  and  thinks  that  the 
errors  in  the  Latin  of  the  folio,  such  as  '  Exit  omnes,' 
'  Enter  three  witches  solus,'  '  actus  tertia,'  and  the  like, 
are  errors  of  the  printers.  He  asserts  that  the  dram- 
atist '  had  much  reading ' ;  that  he  '  was  very  knowing 
in  the  customs,  rites,  and  manners  of  antiquity ' ;  that 
he  copied  speeches  from  Plutarch  in  Coriolanus  ;  that 
he  'appears  to  have  been  conversant  with  Plautus,' 
and  was  '  manifestly  acquainted  with  the  modern  Ital- 
ian writers  of  novels.'  The  many  anachronisms  in  the 
plays  he  attributes  to  the  illiteracy  of  the  actors  and 
publishers.  He,  however,  distinguishes  between  '  learn- 
ing '  and  '  languages.'  '  How  far,'  he  writes,  '  he  was  , 
ignorant  of  the  latter  I  cannot  determine ;  but  't  is 
plain  he  had  much  reading  at  least,  if  they  will  not 
call  it  learning.'  Pope's  position  is  mainly  right,  but 
his  dislike  to  commit  himself  and  his  disposition  to 
argue  a  point  so  that  he  may  seem  to  agree  with 
whichever  side  is  eventually  proved  right,  is  apparent 
in  all  he  says  in  his  preface.  He  would  have  saved 
himself  great  annoyance  had  he  hedged  as  carefully  in 
his  emendations  of  the  text. 

Theobald  was  at  first  inclined  to  believe  from  simi- 
larity of  expression  that  Shakespeare  knew  the  classics 
at  first  hand.  Upton  and  Grey  were  eager  to  prove  that 
he  was  a  man  of  profound  reading.  In  1748  Peter 
Whaley  brought  out  his  Enquiry  into  the  Learning  of  ' 
Shakespeare^  and  took  the  ground  that  he  '  knew  enough 


154        SHAKESPEARE  AND   HIS   CRITICS 

Latin  to  have  acquired  taste  and  elegance  of  judgment,' 
which,  presumably,  he  thinks  all  good  Latin  scholars 
possess.  The  question  was  one  well  adapted  to  John- 
son's critical  faculty,  because  it  is  to  be  determined  by 
a  common-sense  examination  of  facts,  and  is  not  at  all 
a  matter  of  literary  art.  He  points  out  that  — 

Jonson,  his  friend,  affirms  that  he  had  *  small  Latin 
and  less  Greek ' ;  who,  besides  that  he  had  no  imaginable 
temptation  to  falsehood,  wrote  at  the  time  when  the  charac- 
ter and  acquisitions  of  Shakespeare  were  known  to  multi- 
tudes. His  evidence  ought  therefore  to  decide  the  controversy, 
unless  some  testimony  of  equal  force  could  be  opposed.  .  .  . 
Some  have  imagined  that  they  have  discovered  deep  learning 
in  many  imitations  of  old  writers ;  but  the  examples  which  I 
have  known  urged,  were  drawn  from  books  translated  in  his 
time ;  or  even  such  easy  coincidences  of  thought  as  will  hap- 
pen to  all  who  consider  the  same  subjects ;  or  such  remarks 
on  life  or  axioms  of  morality  as  float  in  conversation,  and 
are  transmitted  through  the  world  in  proverbial  sentences. 

Johnson  shows  that  the  poet  used  North's  translation 
of  Plutarch  and  that  there  was  in  the  sixteenth  century 
an  English  version  of  the  Latin  comedy  on  which  the 
Comedy  of  Errors  is  founded.  He  concludes  :  — 

There  is  however  proof  enough  that  he  was  a  very  dili- 
gent reader,  nor  was  our  language  then  so  indigent  of  books 
but  that  he  might  very  liberally  indulge  his  curiosity  without 
excursion  into  foreign  literature.  Many  of  the  Roman  authors 
were  translated  and  some  of  the  Greek.  .  .  .  This  was  a 
stock  of  knowledge  sufficient  for  a  mind  so  capable  of  appro- 
priating and  improving  it. 

In  1767  Dr.  Richard  Farmer,  Master  of  Emmanuel 
College  and  Head  Librarian  of  the  University  of  Cam- 
bridge, published  a  long  Essay  on  the  Learning  of 
Shakespeare.  In  this  he  shows  that  the  dramatist  inva- 


LATE  EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY   ESSAYISTS    155 

riably  used  translations  when  he  based  his  plot  on  a 
story  originally  told  in  a  foreign  language,  because 
wherever  the  translator  or  printer  made  a  mistake  he 
follows  in  the  same  error.  Aided  by  Capell,  whom 
he  calls  'a  very  curious  and  intelligent  gentleman/  he 
points  out  the  absurdity  of  drawing  an  argument  from 
parallel  passages  in  the  classics  unless  the  parallels  are 
near  together.  For  instance,  it  is  absurd  to  imagine 
that  the  '  sweete  oblivious  antidote '  Macbeth  asks  for 
was  suggested  by  the  *  Nepenthe '  of  Ulysses.  He  illus- 
trates this  point  very  fully,  but  he  had  such  a  strong 
case  that  it  was  not  difficult  to  make  a  convincing  argu- 
ment. He  fails  to  avail  himself  of  the  many  openings 
for  caustic  wit  which  Steevens  would  have  improved  so 
gleefully,  and  so  much  to  our  satisfaction. 

Dr.  Farmer  does  not  treat  the  subject  in  a  very  broad 
way,  for  in  reality  it  is  related  to  the  essentials  of  liter- 
ary creation.  But  his  paper  is  a  document  in  Shake- 
spearean criticism,  though  it  seems  strange  to  us  that 
the  question  should  have  been  debated.  Shakespeare, 
we  know,  came  to  London  a  young  man,  with  little 
scholastic  education.  Very  likely  he  had  construed 
some  of  Ovid,  and  had  imbibed  the  traditionary  respect 
for  Latin  literature  felt  by  his  contemporaries.  Then 
for  some  twenty  years  he  spent  his  time  professionally 
9,3  actor  and  playwright  and  theatrical  'Johannes  Fac- 
totum.' Probably  he  had  to  appear  in  a  new  part  every 
week.  Even  admitting  that  the  season  was  interrupted, 
it  is  evidently  out  of  the  question  that  he  could  have 
spent  much  time  in  reading  anything  which  was  not 
useful  in  his  vocation,  certainly  not  in  translating  Latin 
books,  because  such  a  task  would  not  have  been  of  the 
slightest  benefit  to  him.  Ben  Jonson  could  do  it,  but 
he  was  not  a  theatrical  owner  like  Shakespeare.  But 
Shakespeare  saw  plays  continually,  and  was  thrown  into 


156        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS   CRITICS 

intimate  relations  with  poets  and  writers;  he  was  in 
the  centre  of  the  literary  as  well  as  of  the  theatrical 
world.  As  Dr.  Farmer  quotes,  —  probably  from  Capell, 
— '  They  who  are  in  such  astonishment  at  the  learning  of 
Shakespeare  forget  that  the  Pagan  imagery  was  famil- 
iar to  all  the  poets  of  his  time,  and  that  abundance  of 
this  sort  of  learning  was  to  be  picked  up  from  almost 
every  English  book  that  he  could  take  in  his  hands.' 
Under  similar  conditions  we  know  that  a  bright  young 
man  of  to-day  assimilates  literary  expressions  and  the 
prevalent  literary  tone  with  great  rapidity.  It  is  not  at 
all  remarkable  that  the  young  Shakespeare  should  have 
used  classical  allusions  and  some  Latin  words  in  Lovers 
Labour 's  Lost.  The  marvel  is  how  he  so  soon  got 
enough  knowledge  of  good  society  and  of  dilettante 
culture  to  portray  a  representative  group  of  a  class  he 
could  never  have  seen  in  Stratford.  Anybody  can  write 
rhymes,  and  some  people  can  even  read  Latin  now,  but 
who  can  embody  the  modern  Biron,  even  if  he  has 
known  a  modern  illustration  of  that  delightful  com- 
pound of  whim,  gallantry,  and  intelligence? 

The  question  of  Shakespeare's  learning  is  at  best  a 
fanciful  one,  like  Shakespeare's  knowledge  of  the  law 
or  medicine  or  the  Bible.  It  sets  on  one  side  all  consid- 
eration of  the  artistic  receptive  and  creative  power,  and 
even  of  the  exceptionally  active  intellect  —  it  leaves 
Shakespeare  out.  So  do  some  other  branches  of  Shake- 
spearean criticism. 

MAURICE   MORGANN 

Mrs.  Montagu  expressed  the  general  opinion  of  the 
time  that  Sir  John  Falstaff  was  a  coward.  The  Gads- 
hill  exploit  she  calls  '  a  frolic  to  play  on  the  cowardly 
and  braggart  temper  of  Falstaffe.'  In  1777  appeared 
Maurice  Morgann's  Essay  on  the  Dramatic  Character 


LATE   EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY   ESSAYISTS    157 

of  Sir  John  Falstaffe.  Of  this  admirable  discussion 
the  author  says,  *  The  viudication  of  Falstaffe's  * 
courage  is  truly  no  otherwise  the  object  than  some 
fantastic  oak  or  grotesque  rock  may  be  the  object  of  a 
morning  ride  ;  yet,  being  purposed  as  such,  may  serve 
to  limit  the  distance  and  shape  the  course.  The  real 
object  is  exercise,  and  the  delight  which  a  rich,  beauti- 
ful, and  picturesque,  and  perhaps  unknown,  country 
may  excite  from  every  side.'  Accordingly,  though  his 
thesis  is, '  Falstaffe  is  not  a  coward,'  he  diverges  from 
his  line  of  proof  to  general  criticism  of  the  Shake- 
spearean art.  Richardson  had  discussed  some  of  the 
personages  of  the  plays,  but  it  is  principally  as  stage 
figures  that  he  apprehends  them.  He  regards  what 
they  say  and  do,  and  not  why  they  talk  and  act  in  a 
certain  manner.  This  is  the  way  in  which  most  people 
regard  their  fellow  mortals,  —  they  do  not  trouble 
themselves  much  about  the  finer  motives  of  their  neigh- 
bors ;  but  it  was  not  Shakespeare's  way,  though  it  was 
the  way  of  the  eighteenth-century  critics.  Mr.  Mor- 
gann's  attitude  to  the  question  is  modern.  The  contrast 
between  his  style  and  method  and  that  of  Dr.  John- 
son's preface  is  so  striking  as  to  suggest  that  they  must 
be  a  century  apart  instead  of  only  fifteen  years. 
Mr.  Morgann  says  that  Shakespeare  — 

very  frequently  makes  a  character  act  and  speak  from  those 
parts  of  the  composition  (of  his  nature)  which  are  inferred 
only  and  not  distinctly  shown.  This  produces  a  wonderful 
effect ;  it  seems  to  carry  us  beyond  the  poet  to  nature  it- 
self and  gives  an  integrity  and  truth  to  facts  and  character 
which  they  could  not  otherwise  obtain.  And  this  is  in  reality 
that  art  in  Shakespeare,  which  being  withdrawn  from  our 
notice  we   more  emphatically  call  nature.  A  felt  propriety 

1  He  refers  of  course  to  the  Falstaff  of  Henry  /  F,  disregarding 
the  water-color  replica  of  Merry  Wives. 


158        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

and  truth  from  causes  unseen  I  take  to  be  the  highest  point 
of  poetic  composition.  If  the  characters  of  Shakespeaie  are 
thus  whole,  and,  as  it  were,  original,  while  those  of  almost 
all  other  writers  are  mere  imitation,  it  may  be  fit  to  consider 
them  rather  as  historic  than  as  dramatic  beings,  and  when 
occasion  requires,  to  account  for  their  conduct  from  the 
whole  of  character,  from  general  principles,  from  latent  mo- 
tives, and  from  policies  not  avowed. 

This  shows  more  insight  into  human  nature  than  any- 
other  critic  of  the  century  possessed,  and  a  critical 
faculty  absolutely  necessary  to  an  adequate  compre- 
hension of  the  Elizabethan  tragedies.  The  stage  charac- 
ter acts  from  some  evident  motive,  the  villain  scowls, 
the  lover  sighs  professionally  ;  but  a  man  is  a  complex, 
and  the  motive  which  determines  actions  is  not  paraded 
as  the  reason  for  conduct. 

The  critic  applies  this  principle  to  Falstaff  and 
says  that  he  is  not  radically  timid,  because  *  cowardice 
is  not  the  impression  which  the  whole  character  of 
Falstaffe  is  calculated  to  make  on  the  minds  of  an 
audience,'  and  that  we  estimate  character  by  actions, 
but  interpret  actions  by  a  feeling  for  the  character 
made  on  us  by  minute  circumstances.  Sir  John  lies  and 
boasts  fearfully,  but  we  feel  that  what  in  another  would 
proceed  from  cowardice  or  egotism,  in  him  is  prompted 
by  jocularity  and  humorous  exaggeration.  He  is  abso- 
lutely indifferent  to  the  punctilio  or  artificial  point  of 
honor,  because  he  is  intelligent  but  destitute  of  the 
higher  imagination.  He  is  of  this  earth,  and  judges 
everything  by  a  mundane  standard,  but  is  by  no  means 
a  '  constitutional  coward.'  This  we  '  feel  from  the 
totality  of  the  presentation.'  That  we  are  right  is 
proved  by  the  social  position  of  the  man  as  an  old 
soldier  in  enjoyment  of  a  pension,  and  one  to  whom 
a  charge  of  foot  is  intrusted.   Mr.  Morgann  develops 


LATE  EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  ESSAYISTS    159 

these  points  with  insight,  and  throughout  regards  Sir 
John  as  a  real  man  and  points  out  that  he  '  never  does 
or  says  anything  which  indicates  terror  or  disorder  of 
mind.'  He  is  always  self-possessed,  but  we  cannot  con- 
ceive of  him  as  doing  anything  heroic. 

That  Falstaff  is  not  constitutionally  timid  is  evi- 
dent from  the  ascendency  he  possesses  over  his  disre- 
putable followers.  No  one  acquires  this  power  over  a 
set  of  parasites  unless  the  men  know  instinctively  that 
their  '  boss '  will  not  shrink  from  physical  conflict  if 
they  rebel.  Falstaff  has  not  the  slightest  regard  for 
them,  but  they  obey  him.  This  is  the  lowest  form  of 
courage,  but  no  one  can  be  a  leader  of  rough  men  with- 
out it.  This  Falstaff  possesses.  Of  the  higher  form 
which  leads  a  man  to  sacrifice  himself  for  a  principle 
or  for  others,  — a  courage  based  on  unselfishness,  which 
is  sometimes  strong  enough  to  conquer  physical  timid- 
ity, —  he  is  entirely  destitute.  To  him  honor  is  some- 
thing absurd.  There  is  no  profit  in  it.  '  Who  hath  it  ? 
He  that  died  o'  Wednesday.  .  .  .  Honor  is  a  mere 
scutcheon.'  This  is  the  view  of  the  unimaginative  man, 
and  Falstaff  never  betrays  the  least  imaginative  fac- 
ulty in  his  language,  so  consistent  is  the  dramatist  to 
his  conception  of  a  character. 

Mr.  Morgann  points  out  the  fact  that  Falstaff  is  the 
same  in  both  parts  of  the  play,  and  says  this  is  the  only 
instance  where  a  personage  is  presented  in  two  plays 
with  perfect  consistency.  He  passes  from  the  particu- 
lar to  more  general  considerations  of  Shakespeare's 
method,  always  with  the  same  insight  and  justness  of 
touch.  The  remembrance  that  Voltaire  had  called  the 
great  dramatist  a  barbarian  inspires  the  following  elo- 
quent passage :  — 

"When  the  hand  of  time  shall  have  brushed  off  his  present 
Editors  and  Commentators,  and  when  the  very  name  of  Vol- 


160         SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

taire,  and  even  the  memory  of  the  language  in  which  he  has 
written,  shall  be  no  more,  the  Apalachian  Mountains,  the 
banks  of  the  Ohio,  and  the  plains  of  Sciota  shall  resound  with 
the  accents  of  this  Barbarian.  In  his  native  tongue  he  shall 
roll  the  genuine  passions  of  nature,  nor  shall  the  griefs  of 
Lear  be  alleviated,  nor  the  charms  and  wit  of  Rosalind  be 
abated  by  time.  There  is,  indeed,  nothing  perishable  about 
him,  except  that  very  learning  which  he  is  said  so  much  to 
want.  He  had  not,  it  is  true,  enough  for  the  demands  of  the 
age  in  which  he  lived,  but  he  had  perhaps  too  much  for  the 
reach  of  his  genius,  and  the  interest  of  his  fame.  Milton  and 
he  will  carry  the  decayed  remnants  and  fripperies  of  antient 
mythology  into  more  distant  ages  than  they  are  by  their  own 
force  entitled  to  extend  ;  and  the  metamorphoses  of  Ovid,  up- 
held by  them,  lay  in  a  new  claim  to  unmerited  immortality. 

Nor  is  his  eulogy  of  Shakespeare  in  a  lower  strain :  — 

He  differs  essentially  from  all  other  writers.  Him  we  may 
profess  rather  to  feel  than  to  understand,  and  it  is  safer  to 
say,  on  many  occasions,  that  we  are  possessed  by  him  than 
that  we  possess  him.  And  no  wonder,  —  he  scatters  the  seeds 
of  things,  the  principles  of  character  and  action,  with  so  cun- 
ning a  hand,  yet  with  so  careless  an  air,  and,  master  of  our 
feelings,  submits  himself  so  little  to  our  judgment,  that  every- 
thing seems  superior.  We  discern  not  his  course,  we  see  no 
connection  of  cause  and  effect,  we  are  rapt  in  ignorant  admira- 
tion and  claim  no  kindred  with  his  abilities.  All  the  incidents, 
all  the  parts,  look  like  chance,  whilst  we  feel  and  are  sensible 
that  the  whole  is  design.  His  characters  not  only  act  and  speak 
in  strict  conformity  to  nature,  but  in  strict  relation  to  us ;  just 
so  much  is  shown  as  is  requisite,  just  so  much  is  impressed  ; 
he  commands  every  passage  to  our  heads  and  to  our  hearts, 
and  moulds  us  as  he  pleases,  and  that  with  so  much  ease,  that 
he  never  betrays  his  own  exertions.  We  see  these  characters 
act  from  the  mingled  motives  of  passion,  reason,  interest, 
habit,  and  complection  in  all  their  proportions  when  they  are 
supposed  to  know  it  not  themselves,  and  we  are  made  to 
acknowledge  that  their  actions  and  sentiments  are,  from  these 


LATE  EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  ESSAYISTS    161 

motives,  the  natural  result.  He  at  once  blends  and  distin- 
guishes everything.  Everything  is  complicated,  everything  is 
plain.  I  restrain  the  further  expressions  of  my  admiration 
lest  they  should  seem  not  applicable  to  man ;  but  it  is  really 
astonishing  that  a  mere  human  being,  a  part  of  humanity 
only,  should  so  perfectly  comprehend  the  whole,  and  that  he 
should  possess  such  exquisite  art,  that  whilst  every  woman 
and  every  child  shall  feel  the  whole  effect,  his  learned  editors 
and  commentators  should  yet  so  very  frequently  mistake  or 
seem  ignorant  of  the  cause.  A  sceptre  or  a  straw  are  in  his 
hands  of  equal  efficacy ;  he  needs  no  selection ;  he  converts 
everything  into  excellence ;  nothing  is  too  great,  nothing  is  too 
base.  Is  a  character  efficient  like  Richard  III,  it  is  everything 
we  can  wish  :  is  it  otherwise  like  Hamlet,  it  is  productive  of 
equal  admiration.  Action  produces  one  mode  of  excellence 
and  inaction  another.  The  chronicle,  the  novel,  or  the  ballad ; 
the  king,  or  the  beggar,  the  hero,  the  madman,  the  sot,  or  the 
fool ;  it  is  all  one ;  nothing  is  worse,  nothing  is  better.  The 
same  genius  pervades  and  is  equally  admirable  in  all.  Or  is 
a  character  to  be  shown  in  progressive  change  and  the  events 
of  years  comprized  within  the  hour ;  with  what  a  magic  hand 
does  he  prepare  and  scatter  his  spells  !  The  understanding 
must  in  the  first  place  be  subdued,  and,  lo !  how  the  rooted 
prejudices  of  the  child  spring  up  to  confound  the  man !  The 
weird  sisters  rise,  and  order  is  extinguished.  The  laws  of  na- 
ture give  way  and  leave  nothing  in  our  minds  but  wildness 
and  horror.  No  pause  is  allowed  us  for  reflection.  Horrid 
sentiment,  furious  guilt  and  compunction,  air-drawn  daggers, 
murders,  ghosts  and  inchantment,  shake  and  '  possess  us 
wholly.'  In  the  meantime  the  process  is  completed.  Macbeth 
changes  under  our  eye,  '  the  milk  of  human  kindness  is  con- 
verted to  gall '  ;  '  he  has  supped  full  of  horrors,'  and  his 
*  way  of  life  is  fallen  into  the  sear,  the  yellow  leaf ' ;  whilst 
we,  the  fools  of  nature,  are  insensible  to  the  shifting  of  place 
and  the  lapse  of  time,  and,  till  the  curtain  drops,  never  once 
awake  to  the  truth  of  things,  or  recognize  the  laws  of  exist- 
ence. On  such  an  occasion  a  fellow  like  Rymer,  waking  from 
his  trance,  shall  lift  up  his  constable's  staff,  and  charge  this 


162        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

great  magician,  this  daring  practicer  of  arts  inhibited,  in  the 
name  of  Aristotle  to  surrender ;  whilst  Aristotle  himself,  dis- 
owning his  wretched  officer,  would  fall  prostrate  at  his  feet 
and  acknowledge  his  supremacy.  *  O  supreme  of  dramatic 
excellence ! '  (might  he  say)  '  not  to  me  be  imputed  the  in- 
solence of  fools.  The  bards  of  Greece  were  confined  within 
the  narrow  circle  of  the  chorus,  and  hence  they  found  them- 
selves constrained  to  practice,  for  the  most  part  the  precision, 
and  copy  the  details  of  nature.  I  followed  them,  and  knew 
not  that  a  larger  circle  might  be  drawn,  and  the  drama  ex- 
tended to  the  whole  reach  of  human  genius.  Convinced,  I  see 
that  a  more  compendious  nature  may  be  obtained ;  a  nature 
of  effects  only,  to  which  neither  the  relations  of  place,  or 
continuity  of  time  are  always  essential.  Nature  condescending 
to  the  faculties  and  apprehensions  of  man,  has  drawn  through 
human  life  a  regular  chain  of  visible  cause  and  effects.  But 
poetry  delights  in  surprise,  conceals  her  steps,  seizes  at  once 
upon  the  heart,  and  obtains  the  sublime  of  things  without  be- 
traying the  rounds  of  her  ascent  ?  True  Poesy  is  magic,  not 
nature,  an  effect  from  causes  hidden  or  unknown.  To  the 
magician  I  prescribed  no  laws ;  his  law  and  his  power  are 
one ;  his  power  is  his  law.  Him  who  neither  imitates  nor  is 
within  the  reach  of  imitation,  no  precedents  can  or  ought  to 
bind,  no  limits  to  contain.  If  this  end  is  obtained,  who  shall 
question  his  course  ?  Means,  whether  apparent  or  hidden,  are 
justified  in  Poesy  by  success ;  but  then  most  perfect  and  most 
admirable  when  most  concealed !  * 

Mr.  Morgann  is  not  mentioned  in  the  encyclopaedias, 
but  his  prose  is  the  most  living  and  vigorous  of  the 
eighteenth  century — if  we  except  Burke's.  Some  exten- 
sion is  given  to  the  extract  because  his  book  is  not 
easy  to  come  at,  and  it  shows  that  poetry  is  to  be  esti- 
mated by  the  effect  it  produces  and  not  by  resemblance 
to  previous  models  or  adherence  to  rules.  That  '  Poesy 
is  magic,*  that  *  means  are  justified  by  success  and  the 
artist  is  his  own  law,'  is  going  as  far  as  Keats  would 


LATE  EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  ESSAYISTS    163 

have  gone  in  an  appreciation  of  beauty  in  words.  The 
book  must  have  appeared  very  heretical  to  Dr.  Johnson 
and  his  friends,  —  indeed  to  the  entire  scholastic  world 
of  the  day,  to  which  moderation  and  restraint  were  car- 
dinal literary  virtues  ;  to  us  it  seems  a  just  appreciation 
of  Sir  John  and  of  the  luxuriance  of  the  great  poet's 
genius,  though  it  overlooks  the  fact  that  over-luxuriance 
is  a  fault,  more  divine  perhaps,  but  hardly  less  dis- 
pleasing, than  slavish  moderation  or  studied  unity. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  EARLY  NINETEENTH  CENTURY 
SAMUEIi  TAYLOB  COLEKIDGE  (1772-1834) 

The  progress  of  Shakespearean  criticism  in  the  eight- 
eenth century  is  manifest.  Most  of  the  work  was  text- 
ual or  historic,  and,  though  it  was  complete  in  neither 
direction,  the  difference  between  Howe  and  Malone  is 
far  greater  than  the  difference  between  Malone  and 
the  Cambridge  editors.  In  aesthetic  and  literary  inter- 
pretation no  solid  advance  was  made,  unless  we  allow  to 
Morgann's  isolated  paper  more  significance  than  its  re- 
stricted topic  can  claim.  Unreasoning  love  and  admira- 
tion of  the  plays,  always  strong  among  educated  men, 
became  so  imperious  in  its  expression  that  no  dullard 
like  Rymer  —  dull  that  is  in  artistic  sense,  not  in  intel- 
lectual ability — dare  write  anything  derogatory  to  them 
for  fear  of  the  storm  of  contemptuous  public  opinion 
he  was  sure  to  encounter.  Reverence  for  the  unities,  once 
a  general  academic  superstition,  as  we  have  noticed, 
grew  weaker  with  each  succeeding  decade.  By  degrees, 
too,  it  began  to  be  felt  that  the  characters  were  the  result 
of  creative  power  putting  together  the  elements  of 
human  nature  in  a  new  combination,  and  not  merely  of 
skill  in  writing  stage  dialogue  full  of  witty,  eloquent, 
and  pathetic  speeches.  Judging  from  Morgann's  words 
with  reference  to  Rosalind  and  Mr.  Richardson's  inade- 
quate analysis  of  Imogen,  it  began  to  dawn  on  critics 
that  Shakespeare's  women,  though  originally  repre- 
•sented  by  boys,  were  on  the  same  artistic  plane  as  his 
men,  equally  various,  equally  true,  and  some  of  them 
striking  as  deep  a  root  into  human  nature. 


THE  EARLY  NINETEENTH  CENTURY  165 

With  the  opening  of  the  nineteenth  century,  if  we 
take  Coleridge  as  a  representative,  —  and  his  critical 
faculty  and  his  wide  influence  certainly  entitle  him  to 
be  so  considered, — Shakespearean  criticism  made  a 
decided  advance.  Not  that  academic  circles  suddenly 
ceased  to  be  Johnsonian  and  classic  and  became  Cole- 
ridgean  and  romantic,  or  that  the  Edinburgh  Review 
became  liberal,  but  that  energetic  and  talented  young 
men  broke  away  from  literary  tradition  and  rallied 
around  a  new  standard.  In  fact,  the  old  had  become 
too  conventional.  One  enthusiastic  young  man  said 
that  Pope  was  not  a  poet.  Other  enthusiastic  young 
men  agreed  with  him.  Wordsworth  even  dared  to  say 
that  the  great  Dr.  Johnson's  style  was  a  '  hubbub  of 
words.'  Verse  was  written  in  new  free  and  varied 
forms,  the  lyrical  element  predominating.  It  was  re- 
ceived at  first  with  ridicule,  but  the  best  of  it  slowly 
made  its  way  to  popular  favor.  Coleridge  lectured  on 
Shakespeare,  and  a  great  many  people  listened  with  ap- 
proval. The  manifestations  of  the  new  spirit  in  litera- 
ture were  manifold.  The  movement  is  known  as  the  rise 
of  romanticism.  It  extended  over  Europe,  and  its  influ- 
ence on  literature  is  fully  treated  in  Brandeis's  The 
Rise  of  the  Romantic  Movement  in  Europe. 

This  is  not  the  place  to  detail  the  causes  of  the  ro- 
mantic movement.  Advanced  Englishmen  were  at  first 
much  excited  over  the  French  Revolution.  They  hailed 
it  as  an  emancipation.  Afterwards  they  were  alarmed 
by  the  days  of  the  Terror,  and  still  more  by  the  rise  of 
Napoleon.  From  the  literary  point  of  view,  the  inocu- 
lation of  a  few  Englishmen  with  the  metaphysics  of 
Kant  and  the  German  criticism  of  the  drama  was  the 
most  efficient.  Literature,  from  the  ballad  to  the  drama, 
was  regarded  as  a  manifestation  of  the  human  spirit, 
not  as  a  thing  apart,  a  collection  of  scholastic  or  anti- 


166        SHAKESPEARE  AND   HIS   CRITICS 

quariau  documents.  German  thought  gave  enthusiastic 
young  men  new  conceptions  as  to  the  nature  of  the 
beautiful  and  the  function  of  the  artist.  Even  when 
these  conceptions  were  imperfectly  apprehended,  they 
were  germinal,  and  were  taken  up  by  minds  already 
full  of  kindred  notions. 

This  change  of  the  critical  point  of  view  did  not 
come  suddenly  over  England.  Throughout  the  eight- 
eenth century  there  had  been  an  undercurrent  of  ro- 
manticism.^ Grray,  though  an  academic  scholar,  was  a 
romantic  poet.  Kindly  humanitarianism  pervades  the 
poetry  and  prose  of  Goldsmith  and  Cowper.  There  are 
always  conservatives  and  romantics.  Keats  wrote  with 
fine  scorn  of  the  old  classical  school,  in  the  free  verse 
form  the  later  romanticists  affected :  — 

Yes,  a  schism, 
Nurtured  by  foppery  and  barbarism, 
Made  great  Apollo  blush  for  this  his  land. 
Men  were  thought  wise  who  could  not  understand 
His  glories :  with  a  puling  infant's  force 
They  swayed  about  upon  a  rocking  horse 
And  thought  it  Pegasus.  But  ye  were  dead 
To  things  ye  know  not  of  — were  closely  wed 
To  musty  laws,  lined  out  with  wretched  rule 
And  compass  vile  !  so  that  ye  taught  a  school 
Of  dolts  to  smooth,  inlay,  and  clip,  and  fit. 
Till  like  the  certain  wands  of  Jacob's  wit 
Their  verses  tallied.  Easy  was  the  task  : 
A  thousand  handicraftsmen  wore  the  mask 
Of  Poesy. 

But  at  the  very  time  this  was  written  the  critical 
Reviews  were  in  the  hands  of  the  conservatives.  On 
the  other  hand  we  read  of  Coleridge's  father  saying  as 

*  This  is  well  traced  out  by  Professor  Phelps  in  the  Romantic 
Movement  of  the  Eighteenth  Century. 


THE  EARLY  NINETEENTH  CENTURY    167 

early  as  1775,  when  Dr.  Johnson  was  a  recognized 
authority  in  criticism,  that  '  he  detested  the  measured, 
insipid,  rhetorical  pseudo-classical  correctness  of  the 
school  of  Pope.*  In  the  year  his  son  was  born  (1772) 
he  wrote  in  a  Latin  grammar  he  published,  '  Artificial 
rules  hamper  a  great  genius :  A  soaring  mind  will  wear 
no  shackles,*  a  sentence  singularly  inappropriate  in  a 
grammar,  but  embodying  one  of  the  most  extreme 
tenets  of  romanticism. 

But  we  speak  of  the  Elizabethan  drama  also  as  the 
*  romantic  drama,*  and  properly,  for  in  its  general  con- 
ception of  the  mystery  of  life  and  the  power  of  the 
human  will,  as  well  as  its  occasional  violence  and  ex- 
aggeration, it  is  characterized  by  the  method  and  the 
faults  of   romanticism.  The  Renaissance  was,  too,  a 
lyrical  age,  and  the  Elizabethan  lyric  is  the  natural 
expression  of  the  romantic  spirit.  But  the  word  applied 
to  the  early  seventeenth  century  has  a  slightly  differ- 
ent significance  when  we  use  it  of  the  later  period.  The 
first  was  more  healthily  objective,  it  revered  the  newly 
discovered   world   of   antiquity.  The,J[attej!  _waa  self- 
conscious,  and  its  subjectivity  easily  degenerated  into 
sentimentalism,  an    artificial   cultivation   of   personal 
emotions.  It  revered  medisevalism,  so  much  so,  that  on 
the  Continent  many  of  its  enthusiasts  became  Catholics. 
It  loved  the  mysterious  and  the  obscure.    The  meta- 
physical base  of  the  thought  of  the  two  was  quite  dif- 
ferent ;  between  them  lay  the  age  of  Puritanism,  which 
left  an  ineffaceable  mark  on  the  English  mind.  The 
Coleridgean  romanticist  was  face  to  face  with  demo- 
cracy, whether  he  knew  it  or  not.  The  Shakespearean 
romanticism  was  aristocratic  and  feudal.  But  in  both 
periods  there  was  a  coming  to  the  surface  of  the  Gothic 
spirit,  as  opposed  to  the  Greco-Latin  spirit.  The  Goth 
delights  in  sombreness,  —  half-lights  and  mystery, — 


168        SHAKESPEARE   AND   HIS   CRITICS 

and  puts  together  in  his  story  and  his  cathedral  ele- 
ments that  seem  incongruous,  —  angels  and  demons, 
the  ideal  and  the  coarse,  commonplace,  jesting  spirits 
of  the  earth.  In  his  literature  he  rebels  against  the 
restraint,  the  self-possession,  the  dignity  and  finish  of 
classic  art.  Sometimes  this  resulted  in  a  strong  and 
natural  picture  of  the  world  ;  sometimes,  as  in  Titus 
Andronicus  and  the  Duchess  of  Malfi^  it  overdid  it- 
self in  violent  action.  So  there  was  enough  resem- 
blance and  inner  sympathy  between  1608  and  1808 
to  make  the  author  of  the  Ancient  Mariner  the  best 
interpreter  of  The  Tempest  and  Hamlet  that  had  ap- 
peared, and  indeed  one  of  the  best  that  has  ever 
appeared,  and  the  first  critic  on  whose  aesthetic  con- 
ceptions later  critics  could  build.  The  new  romanticism 
was  akin  to  the  old,  and  could  sympathize  more  fully 
with  its  poetic  spirit.  It  took  a  larger  view  of  the 
artist,  a  more  enthusiastic  view  of  the  world  and  man. 
It  set  aside  the  classical  tradition  firmly,  and  ranked 
Shakespeare  at  once  with  the  old  masters.  Its  unrea- 
soning admiration  of  the  plays  was  not  less,  but  its 
reasoned  admiration  was  more  philosophical  and  its 
analysis  more  profound.  Even  when  the  analysis  is 
fanciful  or  tinged  by  German  mysticism,  it  is  at  least 
an  attempt  to  get  at  the  nature  of  the  thing.  Of  all 
these  tendencies  Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge  is  the  ex- 
ponent. Hazlitt,  Lamb,  De  Quincey,  and  the  others 
are  at  once  his  spiritual  pupils  and  the  children  of 
their  age. 

Coleridge's  influence  was  largely  due  to  his  remark- 
able powers  of  conversation.  To  the  quickening  in- 
fluence of  his  talk,  testimony  is  abundant.  The  printed 
record  of  his  criticism  ^  on  Shakespeare  is  fragmentary 

^  Coleridge's  Shakespearean  criticism  has  been  brought  to- 
gether and  arranged  as  well  as  possible  by  Mr.   Ashe,  in   one 


THE  EARLY  NINETEENTH   CENTURY     169 

though  of  considerable  bulk.  It  consists  of  extracts 
from  The  Fnend  and  Biographia  Literaria,  news- 
paper reports  of  his  lectures,  notes  taken  by  some  one 
of  the  audience,  and  a  mass  of  matter  from  his  notes 
published  after  his  death  by  his  nephew,  H.  N.  Cole- 
ridge, under  the  title  of  Literary  Remains.  This  con- 
sists of  some  papers  of  considerable  length  and  many 
notes,  some  of  which  are  careless  jottings  of  ideas, 
others  elaborated  matter  to  be  used  in  his  lectures.  In  all 
this  there  are  naturally  many  repetitions  to  be  found, 
and  few  lines  of  thought  are  logically  followed  out. 
Coleridge  was  well  called  the  '  man  of  magnificent  be- 
ginnings,' of  '  infinite  title  pages.'  His  Table  Talk^ 
published  after  his  death,  contains  many  striking  and 
just  remarks  on  Shakespeare.  He  read  continuously, 
and  made  full  notes  for  his  lectures,  but  usually  aban- 
doned his  written  material,  sometimes  disappointing 
and  wearying  his  audience  by  his  digressions,  but 
oftener  holding  it  in  rapt  attention,  so  much  so  that 
Mr.  Collier,  the  Shakespearean  editor,  who  as  a  young 
man  attended  his  .lectures  and  took  shorthand  notes, 
says : — 

They  [the  reports,  afterwards  printed]  are,  I  am  sure,  full 
of  omissions,  owing  in  some  degree  to  want  of  facility  on  my 
part,  in  a  greater  degree,  perhaps,  to  a  mistaken  estimate  of 
what  it  was,  or  was  not,  expedient  to  minute,  and  in  no  little 
proportion  to  the  fact  that  in  some  cases  I  relied  upon  my  re- 
collection to  fill  up  chasms  in  my  memoranda.  A  few  defects 
may  be  attributed  to  my  position  among  the  auditors  (though 

voUime  (pp.  540),  Bohn's  Library.  Mr.  Ashe  omits,  however,  the 

article  in  the  Encyclopaedia  Metropolitana  on  *  The  Method  of 
Shakespeare,'  little  more  than  two  pages  of  which  were  extracted 
from  The  Friend.  The  article  is  also  interesting  as  showing  that 
Coleridge  was  not  above  copying  from  himself,  whether  this  or 
the  paper  in  The  Friend  were  published  first. 


/ 


170        SHAKESPEARE  AND   HIS   CRITICS 

the  lectures  were  not  always  very  fully  attended),  and  others 
to  the  plain  fact  that  I  was  not  infrequently  so  engrossed  and 
absorbed  by  the  almost  inspired  look  and  manner  of  the 
speaker,  that  I  was  for  a  time  incapable  of  performing  the 
mechanical  duty  of  writing. 

Although  the  eighteenth -century  critics  had  the  ad- 
vantage of  seeing  Shakespeare's  women  played  by  some 
great  actresses  —  notably,  Sarah  Siddons  —  they  were 
strangely  insensible  to  them  except  as  stage  figures. 
They  classed  Juliet  and  Ophelia  together  as  girls  in 
love,  and  regarded  Lady  Macbeth  as  a  type  of  the 
ambitious,  masterful  woman.  The  delicate  shading  that 
distinguishes  Rosalind  and  Viola  was  too  fine  for  their 
I  perception.  Coleridge,  however,  claims  for  them  as  a 

i  class  the  simplicity,  tenderness,  and  latent  heroism  that 
mark  gracious  womanhood.  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's 
women,  he  says,  'are,  when  of  the  right  kind,  not 
decent,  when  heroic,  complete  viragos.* 

But  in  Shakespeare  all  the  elements  of  womanhood  are 
holy,  and  there  is  the  sweet  yet  dignified  feeling  of  all  that 
continuates  society,^  as  sense  of  ancestry  and  of  sex,  with  a 
purity  unassailable  by  sophistry,  because  it  rests  not  in  the 
analytical  processes,  but  in  that  same  equipoise  of  the  facul- 
ties, during  which  the  feelings  are  representative  of  all  past 
experience,  not  of  the  individual  only,  but  of  all  those  by 
whom  she  has  been  educated  and  their  predecessors  even  up 
to  the  first  woman  that  lived.  Shakespeare  saw  that  the  want 
of  prominence,  which  Pope  notices  for  sarcasm,  was  the 
blessed  beauty  of  woman's  character,  and  knew  that  it  arose 
not  from  any  deficiency,  but  from  the  more  exquisite  harmony 
of  all  the  parts  of  the  moral  being  constituting  one  living  total 
of  head  and  heart.  He  has  drawn  it,  indeed,  in  all  its  dis- 
tinctive energies  of  faith,  patience,  constancy,  fortitude,  — 

1  Here  Colericlge  seems  to  anticipate  by  the  intuition  of  genius 
the  modern  theory  of  atavism  and  race  heredity. 


THE  EARLY   NINETEENTH  CENTURY    171 

shown  in  all  of  them  as  following  the  heart,  which  gives  its 
results  by  a  nice  tact  and  intuition,  without  the  intervention 
of  the  discursive  faculty,  —  sees  all  things  in  and  by  the  light 
of  the  affections,  and  errs,  if  it  ever  err,  in  the  exaggerations 
of  love  alone.  In  all  the  Shakespearean  women  there  is 
essentially  the  same  foundation  and  principle ;  the  distinct 
individuality  and  variety  are  merely  the  result  of  the  modifi- 
cation of  circumstances,  whether  in  Miranda  the  maiden,  in 
Imogen  the  wife,  or  in  Katharine  the  queen. 

We  can  agree  heartily  that  the  '  foundation  and 
principle  '  is  the  same,  but  dissent  no  less  heartily  from 
the  critic's  assertion  that  the  individuality  is  the  result 
of  the  modification  of  circumstances ;  for  Viola,  Por- 
tia, and  Miranda  are  far  more  distinctly  and  radically 
different  individuals  than  are  the  men  in  the  plays,  if 
we  exclude  the  Jew  and  the  Magician.  Coleridge's  en- 
thusiasm for  the  Shakespearean  women  causes  him  to 
overestimate  Ophelia.  Of  her  he  says  :  — 

.  .  .  the  faults  of  the  sex  from  which  Ophelia  is  so  free, 
that  the  mere  freedom  therefrom  constitutes  her  character. 
Note  Shakespeare's  charm  of  composing  the  female  charac- 
ter by  the  absence  of  characters,  that  is,  marks  and  out- 
juttings.  .  .  .  The  soliloquy  of  Ophelia  which  follows  is 
the  perfection  of  love  —  so  exquisitely  unselfish. 

To  us  it  seems  as  if  that  soliloquy,  so  musical  in  its 
rhythm,  is  a  marvelous  revelation  of  a  shallow  nature  ; 
and  shallowness  connotes  selfishness,  the  absence  of 
capacity  for  the  profounder  psychical  relations. 

O,  what  a  noble  mind  is  here  o'erthrown. 

She,  like  her  father,  is  convinced  that  Hamlet's  mind  is 
unsettled,  because  he  talks  in  an  excited  and  uncon- 
ventional manner.  She  then  thinks  of  his  position 
and  appearance,  and  then  of  herself,  all  in  placidly 
modulated   language.    She   is  a   docile   and  negative 


172        SHAKESPEARE   AND   HIS   CRITICS 

character,  incapable  of  the  sympathetic  insight  and  of 
the  passion  to  help  and  comfort  which  is  the  attribute 
of  feminine  love.  The  loneliness  of  soul  which  her  de- 
ficiencies force  on  her  lover  is  one  of  his  troubles. 

Coleridge  says  that  '  Shakespeare  has  left  the  charac- 
ter of  the  Queen  in  an  unpleasant  perplexity.  Was  she 
or  was  she  not  conscious  of  the  fratricide  ?  ' 

The  queen  is  an  indolent,  good-natured,  sensual 
creature,  but  her  evident  astonishment  when  Hamlet 
says : — 

A  bloody  deed !  almost  as  bad,  good  mother, 
As  kill  a  king,  and  marry  with  his  brother,  — 

coupled  with  the  fact  that  he  at  once  drops  the  accusa^ 
tion,  should  acquit  her  of  being  particeps  criminis. 

Coleridge's  remarks  on  the  characters  are  full  of 
genuine  human  sympathy.  They  are  his  brothers  and 
sisters  in  circumstances  that  elicit  pity  and  love.  lago 
affects  him  with  terror,  as  if  he  were  alive.  This  is 
entirely  different  from  the  cool  regard  of  the  classic 
critics.  The  romanticist  yields  to  his  emotions,  —  some- 
times, indeed,  cherishes  and  exaggerates  them. 

His  estimate  of  Hamlet  is  much  the  same  as  that  of 
his  contemporary,  Schlegel,  and  both  may  be  traced  to 
the  criticism  of  Goethe  in  Wilhelm  Meister,  This  view 
is  that  Hamlet  lacked  will  power  to  carry  out  a  reso- 
lution. In  the  lectures  of  1811-12  Coleridge  says :  — 

He  [Shakespeare]  intended  to  portray  a  person  in  whose 
view  the  external  world  and  all  its  incidents  and  objects  were 
comparatively  dim,  and  of  no  interest  in  themselves,  and 
which  began  to  interest  only  when  they  were  reflected  in  the 
mirror  of  his  mind.  Hamlet  believed  external  things  in  the 
same  way  that  a  man  of  vivid  imagination,  who  shuts  his 
eyes,  sees  what  has  previously  made  an  impression  on  his 
organs. 


THE  EARLY   NINETEENTH   CENTURY    173 

The  same  general  philosophical  view  obtains  in  the 
lectures  of  1818 :  — 

In  Hamlet  he  seems  to  have  wished  to  exemplify  the 
moral  necessity  of  a  due  balance  between  our  attention  to 
the  objects  of  our  senses,  and  our  meditation  on  the  work- 
ings of  our  mind.  In  Hamlet  this  balance  is  disturbed :  his 
thoughts  and  the  images  of  his  fancy  are  far  more  vivid  than 
his  actual  perceptions,  and  his  very  perceptions  instantly 
passing  through  the  medium  of  his  contemplations  acquire,  as 
they  pass,  a  form  and  color  not  their  own.  Hence  we  see  a 
great,  an  almost  enormous,  intellectual  activity,  and  a  pro- 
portionate aversion  to  real  action  consequent  upon  it,  with 
all  its  symptoms  and  accompanying  qualities.  This  character 
Shakespeare  places  in  circumstances  under  which  it  is  obliged 
to  act  on  the  spur  of  the  moment. 

In  1812  Coleridge  said :  — 

He  [Hamlet]  is  full  of  purpose  but  void  of  that  quality 
of  mind  which  accomplishes  purpose.  Anything  finer  than 
this  conception,  and  working  out  of  a  great  character,  is 
merely  impossible.  Shakespeare  wished  to  impress  upon  us 
the  truth,  that  action  is  the  chief  end  of  existence  —  that  no 
faculties  of  intellect,  however  brilliant,  can  be  considered 
valuable,  or  indeed  otherwise  than  as  misfortunes,  if  they 
withdraw  us  from,  or  render  us  repugnant  to  action,  and 
lead  us  to  think  of  doing  until  the  time  has  elapsed  when  we 
can  do  anything  effectually.  Hamlet  is  a  man  living  in  medi- 
tation, called  upon  to  act  by  every  motive,  human  and  divine, 
but  the  great  object  of  his  life  is  defeated  by  continually  re- 
solving to  do,  yet  doing  nothing  but  resolve. 

This,  at  least,  is  better  than  Mr.  Richardson's  expla- 
nation that  he  does  not  act  because  he  is  '  irresolute.' 
It  is  an  attempt  to  explain  irresolution  by  mental  and 
temperamental  composition.  It  is  more  philosophical 
than  the  explanation  that  Hamlet  dreaded  to  shed  blood 
or  that  he  feared  the  consequences  of  his  act,  of  which 


174        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

there  is  not  the  slightest  evidence  in  the  play.  With 
some  modifications  it  is  the  position  taken  by  the  lead- 
ing critics  of  the  nineteenth  century. 

He  gives  the  final  blow  to  the  idea  that  the  unities  of 
time  and  place  are  vital  in  the  construction  of  a  drama. 
In  his  second  lecture  of  the  1811-12  series  he  said:  — 

The  works  of  Shakespeare  are  honored  in  a  double  way, 
by  the  admiration  of  the  Germans  and  the  contempt  of  the 
French.  .  .  .  Among  other  points  of  objection  taken  by  the 
French,  perhaps  the  most  noticeable  is  that  he  has  not  ob- 
served the  sacred  unities,  so  hallowed  by  the  practice  of  their 
own  extolled  tragedians.  They  hold,  of  course,  after  Corneille 
and  Racine,  that  Sophocles  is  the  most  perfect  model  for 
tragedy,  and  Aristotle  its  most  infallible  censor  ;  and  that,  as 
Hamlet,  Lear,  Macbeth,  and  other  dramas  by  Shakespeare 
are  not  framed  upon  that  model,  and  consequently  not  sub- 
ject to  the  same  laws,  they  maintain  that  Shakespeare  was  a 
sort  of  irregular  genius,  that  he  is  now  and  then  tasteful  and 
touching,  but  generally  incorrect ;  and  in  short  that  he  was  a 
mere  child  of  nature,  who  did  not  know  any  better  than  to 
write  as  he  has  written. 

Coleridge's  answer  is,  that  the  construction  of  the 
ancient  theatre  and  the  presence  of  the  chorus  necessi- 
tated continuity  of  action,  but  that  even  then  the  plays 
represented  '  were  made  to  include  within  a  short 
space  of  time  events  which  it  is  impossible  should  have 
occurred  in  that  short  space.'  In  both  cases  dramatic 
performances  were  looked  on  as  ideal.  *  Nobody  sup- 
poses that  a  tragedian  suffers  real  pain  when  he  is 
stabbed  or  tortured.'  And  so  real  occurrences,  when 
imitated,  must  be  transposed,  foreshortened,  and  forced 
into  a  temporal  perspective  in  order  to  create  an  artis- 
tic illusion.  The  length  of  a  drama  is  limited  to  two 
hours  or  so  by  the  power  of  an  audience  for  enduring 
emotional  excitement.  The  time  supposed  to  elapse  is 


THE  EARLY   NINETEENTH   CENTURY    175 

limited  or  extended  by  an  artificial  convention  to  in- 
clude all  that  is  essential  to  the  plot. 

Coleridge  justifies  the  juxtaposition  of  the  comic  and 
tragic  in  the  old  plays  by  the  obvious  argument  of  the 
effect  of  contrast.  He  rejects  for  no  sufficient  reason 
the  porter  scene  in  Macbeth.  He  considers  the  fools 
the  legitimate  successors  of  the  '  vice '  of  the  moralities, 
and  says  they  are  not  used  only  to  create  amusement ;  he 
thinks  they  fill  to  a  certain  extent  the  function  of  the 
Greek  chorus,  in  that  they  stand  outside  of  the  action 
and  comment  on  what  is  going  on  as  a  spectator  might. 
In  some  of  the  plays  he  thinks  that  the  office  of  the 
fool  is  divided  among  several  characters.  He  discusses 
the  probable  order  in  which  the  plays  were  written,  and, 
characteristically,  does  not  base  himself  on  the  evidence 
collected  by  Malone,  but  on  psychological  reasons,  and 
divides  them  into  'youthful,'  'manly,'  and  'mature' 
plays. 

He  notices  the  important  point  that  'the  works  of 
Shakespeare  are  romantic  poetry  revealing  itself  in  the 
drama,'  and  says,  following  Schlegel,  that  — 

they  are  in  the  ancient  sense  neither  tragedies  nor  comedies 
nor  both  in  one,  but  a  different  genus,  diverse  in  kind,  not 
merely  different  in  degree.  They  may  be  called  romantic 
dramas  or  dramatic  romances.  .  .  .  The  essence  of  the  Athe- 
nian dramatists  consists  of  the  sternest  separation  of  the 
diverse  in  kind  and  the  disparate  in  degree,  whilst  the 
romantic  drama  delights  in  interlacing  by  a  rainbow-like 
transfusion  of  hues  the  one  with  the  other. 

But  one  is  not  of  a  higher  degree  of  beauty  than 
another,  for  — 

we  call,  for  we  both  see  and  feel,  the  swan  and  the  dove 
transcendently  beautiful.  As  absurd  would  it  be  to  institute  a 
comparison  between  their  separate  claims  to  beauty  from  any 


176        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

abstract  rule  common  to  both,  without  reference  to  the  life 
and  being  of  the  animals  themselves  —  or  as  if,  having  first 
seen  the  dove,  we  abstracted  its  outlines,  gave  them  a  false 
generalization,  called  them  the  principles  or  ideal  of  bird- 
beauty  and  then  proceeded  to  criticize  the  swan  or  the  eagle : 
—  not  less  absurd  is  it  to  pass  judgment  on  the  works  of  a  poet 
on  the  mere  ground  that  they  have  been  called  by  the  same 
class-name  with  the  works  of  other  poets  in  other  times  and 
circumstances,  or  on  any  ground,  indeed,  save  that  of  their 
inappropriateness  of  their  own  end  and  being,  their  want  of 
significance  as  symbols  or  physiognomy. 

In  this  Coleridge  recognizes  the  principle  that  the 
human  race  'works  for  itself  new  organs  of  power 
appropriate  to  a  new  sphere  of  its  activity,'  and  shakes 
himself  free  from  the  narrow  notion  of  restricted  forms, 
each  with  its  specially  imposed  rules.  It  is  a  great 
advance  to  claim  unhesitatingly  for  the  Gothic  art  of 
Shakespeare  the  right  to  be  judged  by  itself  with  refer- 
ence to  its  '  own  end  and  being,'  and  not  by  formal 
comparison  with  the  Greek  art  of  Sophocles. 

The  most  consecutive  piece  of  criticism  is  headed, 
in  Literary  Remains^ '  Recapitulation  and  Summary  of 
the  Characteristics  of  Shakespeare's  Dramas.'  It  occu- 
pies ten  pages,  and  Mr.  H.  N.  Coleridge,  the  editor,  says 
it  was  *  for  the  most  part  communicated  by  Mr.  Justice 
Coleridge '(Sir  John  Taylor  Coleridge).  Mr.  Ashe  adds, 
*  That  is  to  say,  written  by  Mr.  Justice  Coleridge  and 
revised  by  H.  N.  Coleridge.'  But  it  bears  many  marks 
of  the  mind  of  S.  T.  Coleridge,  in  fact,  seems  his  in 
everything  but  its  logical  order.  It  contains  two  of  the 
passages  which  have  been  made  the  basis  of  charging 
him  with  plagiarizing  from  Augustus  Schlegel  (of  which 
more  hereafter).  Mr.  Justice  Coleridge  would  not  have 
taken  matter  from  a  German  book  and  called  it  a  tran- 
scription of  his  uncle's  notes.  Nor  could  he  have  written 


THE  EARLY  NINETEENTH   CENTURY    177 

such  excellent  Shakespearean  criticism  unless  the  spirit 
of  S.  T.  Coleridge  had  been  speaking  through  him. 
Take  the  sentence,  *  The  stage  in  Shakespeare's  time 
was  a  naked  room  with  a  blanket  for  a  curtain,  but  he 
made  it  a  field  for  monarchs.'  That  is  precisely  like  the 
great  Coleridge  in  its  formal  inaccuracy  and  its  radical 
truth.  The  stage  in  Shakespeare's  time  was  not  a  room, 
it  was  a  platform  open  on  three  sides.  There  was  no 
curtain  unless  before  the  recess  under  the  balcony  which 
ran  across  the  rear.  But  Shakespeare  did  make  it  a 
'  field  for  monarchs ' ;  he  peopled  it  with  dignified  and 
noble  figures,  monarchs  in  intellect  and  will.  There  is 
as  much  of  Coleridge  in  this  short  essay  as  in  any 
other  part  of  the  book,  and  it  is  always  taken  as  his. 
He  says :  — 

It  seems  to  me  that  his  plays  are  distinguished  from  those 
of  all  other  dramatic  poets  by  the  following  characteristics  :  — 

1.  Expectation  in  preference  to  surprise.  As  the  feeling 
with  which  we  startle  at  a  shooting  star,  compared  with  that 
of  watching  the  sunrise  at  the  pregstablished  moment,  such 
and  so  low  is  surprise  compared  with  expectation. 

2.  Signal  adherence  to  the  great  law  of  nature  that 
opposites  tend  to  attract  and  temper  each  other.  Passion  in 
Shakespeare  generally  displays  libertinism,  but  involves 
morality.  .  .  .  Hence,  real  folly  and  dullness  are  made  hyj 
him  the  vehicles  of  wisdom. 

3.  Keeping  at  all  times  in  the  high  road  of  life.  Shak( 
speare  has  no  innocent  adulteries,  no  interesting  incests,  no 
virtuous  vice.  Shakespeare's  fathers  are  roused  by  ingrati- 
tude ;  his  husbands  stung  by  unfaithfulness  ;  in  him,  in  short, 
the  affections  are  wounded  in  those  points  in  which  all  may, 
nay,  must,  feel.  .  .  .  He  does  not  use  the  faulty  thing  for  a 
faulty  purpose,  nor  carry  on  war  against  virtue  by  causing 
wickedness  to  appear  as  no  wickedness,  through  the  medium 
of  a  morbid  sympathy  with  the  unfortunate.  He  inverts  not  i 
the  order  of  nature  and  propriety,  —  does  not  make  every/ 


178        SHAKESPEARE   AND  HIS  CRITICS 

magistrate  a  drunkard  or  glutton,  nor  every  poor  man  meek, 

humane,  and  temperate. 

/    4.  Independence   of   the  dramatic  interest   in    the  plot. 

/   The  interest  in  the  plot  is  always  in  fact  on  account  of  the 

\     characters,  not  vice  versa  as  in  almost  all  other  writers ;  the 

\   plot  is  a  mere  canvas  and  no  more. 

5.  Independence  of  the  interest  in  the  story  as  the  ground- 
work of  the  plot.  Hence  Shakespeare  never  took  the  trouble 
of  inventing  stories.  .  .  .  The  greater  part,  if  not  all  of  his 
dramas,  were  as  far  as  the  names  and  main  incidents  are 
concerned  already  stock-plays.  All  the  stories  preexisted  in 
the  chronicles,  ballads,  or  translations  of  contemporary 
writers. 

6.  Interfusion  of  the  lyrical. 

7.  The  characters  of  the  dramatis  personce,  like  those  in 
real  life,  are  to  he  inferred  hy  the  reader —  they  are  not  told 
to  him.  Shakespeare's  characters,  like  those  in  real  life,  are 
very  commonly  misunderstood.  The  causes  are  the  same  in 
either  case.  If  you  take  only  what  the  friends  of  the  char- 
acter say  you  may  be  deceived,  and  still  more  so,  if  that 
which  his  enemies  say ;  nay,  even  the  character  himself  sees 
himself  through  the  medium  of  his  character,  and  not  exactly 
as  he  is.  Take  all  together,  not  omitting  a  shrewd  hint  from 
the  clown  or  the  fool,  and  perhaps  your  impression  will  be 
right  and  you  may  know  whether  you  have  in  fact  discovered 
the  poet's  own  idea,  all  the  speeches  receiving  light  from  it 
and  attesting  its  reality  by  reflecting  it. 

Lastly,  in  Shakespeare  the  heterogeneous  is  limited,  as  it 
is  in  nature.  You  must  not  suppose  a  pressure  or  passion 
always  acting  on  or  in  the  character.  He  followed  the  main 
march  of  the  human  affections.  He  entered  into  no  analysis  of 
the  passions  or  faiths  of  men,  but  assured  himself  that  such 
and  such  passions  and  faiths  were  grounded  in  our  common 
nature  and  not  in  the  mere  accidents  of  ignorance  or  disease. 

When  Coleridge  keeps  clear  of  German  metaphysics 
his  criticism  is  of  the  above  clear  and  sound  nature, 
with  here  and  there  sentences  that  light  up  the  matter 


THE  EARLY  NINETEENTH  CENTURY    179 

and  clear  away  the  confusion  of  the  past.  Occasionally 
some  reminiscence  of  Schelling's  '  identity  in  contra- 
riety *  comes  over  him  and  he  attempts  to  tell  the  time 
of  day  by  the  light  of  the  moon,  but  for  the  most  part 
he  reckons  from  the  fixed  stars.  He  notes  the  tone  of 
each  play,  how  different  Hamlet  is  from  Othello^  or 
Midsummer  NigMs  Dream  from  The  Tempest.  Com- 
menting on  Macbeth^  he  makes  the  excellent  point  — 
suggested  perhaps  by  his  translation  of  Schiller's 
Wallenstein — that  'victorious  generals  are  prone  to 
superstition.'  He  scouts  the  idea  that  Othello  was  a 
negro,  —  in  this  going  directly  contrary  to  Schlegel,  — 
and  he  notices  the  excellence  of  Shakespeare's  intro- 
ductions, though  he  overlooks  the  fact  that  the  fifth 
acts  are  not  always  so  well  constructed.  Even  in  their 
chaotic  condition  his  notes  have  the  unity,  or,  rather, 
similarity,  which  a  thinker,  even  when  most  desultory, 
impresses  on  his  utterances,  and  his  reputation  as  a 
critic  depends  as  much  on  his  Shakespearean  notes  as 
on  the  discussion  of  poetry  published  during  his  life  in 
BiograpMca  Literaria,  His  lecture  on  Johnson's  Pre- 
face is  unfortunately  lost,  but  it  is  not  needed  to  mark 
the  gap  between  him  and  his  successors  and  the  neo- 
classicists  of  the  eighteenth  century. 

During  his  life  it  was  said  that  he  drew  his  meta- 
physical ideas  from  Schelling  and  his  Shakespearean 
ideas  from  Augustus  Schlegel,  one  of  the  leaders  of 
the  German  romanticists.  After  his  death  the  charge 
was  rudely  pressed  by  Sir  William  Hamilton  in  the 
Edinburgh  Review.  His  ideas  on  metaphysics  need 
not  detain  us,  though  we  may  note  that  Schelling  re- 
garded him  as  a  brilliant  disciple.  With  regard  to  his 
critical  principles  it  is  true  that  Coleridge  did  spend  a 
year  in  Germany  in  1798,  and  much  of  it  at  the  Uni- 
versity of  Gottingen,  and  undoubtedly  discussed  litera- 


180        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

ture  and  art  with  many  of  the  enthusiastic  young  men 
of  the  new  school.  He  imbibed  and  expanded  the  ideas 
that  were  in  the  air,  as  every  young  man  does  according 
to  his  receptivity  and  originality.  If  these  principles 
are  reiterated  in  later  writings,  it  is  absurd  to  caU  such 
reiteration  plagiarism,  or  even  an  indication  of  a  lack 
of  originality ;  no  one  can  plagiarize  the  spirit  of  his 
age  in  religion  or  philosophy.  He  adopts  certain  ex- 
planations and  ways  of  accounting  for  things,  and  his 
originality  depends  on  the  form  in  which  he  embodies 
and  applies  them.  Plagiarism  is  repeating  the  thoughts 
of  another  in  the  original  form.  Of  this  Coleridge  was 
never  guilty,  for  he  colored  and  amplified  in  expression 
any  ideas  that  came  to  him  from  others.  There  is  a 
minor  form  of  plagiarism,  appropriating  an  image,  a 
turn  of  phrase,  or  the  general  color  of  a  passage.  It 
is  usually  unconscious,  and  is  pardonable  when  the 
original  is  in  a  different  language.  Of  this,  due  largely 
to  a  very  untrustworthy  memory  for  facts  and  a  very 
retentive  memory  for  ideas,  Coleridge  is  guilty. 

Coleridge  undoubtedly  lectured  on  Shakespeare  before 
1811-12,  but  we  have  no  record  of  what  he  said  before 
the  later  date.  In  the  ninth  lecture  of  his  1811-12 
course,  probably  early  in  1812,  he  is  reported  as  saying: 

Yesterday  afternoon  a  friend  left  a  book  for  me  by  a. 
German  critic  of  which  I  have  only  had  time  to  read  a 
small  part,  but  what  I  did  read,  I  approved,  and  I  should  be 
disposed  to  applaud  the  work  much  more  highly,  were  it  not 
that  in  so  doing  I  should,  in  a  manner,  applaud  myself.  The 
sentences  and  opinions  are  coincident  with  those  to  which  I 
gave  utterance  in  my  lectures  at  the  Royal  Institution. 

The  friend  was  Henry  Crabb  Robinson  —  and  the 
book  was  Schlegel's  Dramatic  Literature  in  German, 
just  published,  though  read  as  lectures  at  Vienna  in 
1808,  and  much  expanded  as  printed.   This,  fixes  the 


THE  EARLY  NINETEENTH  CENTURY    181 

date  at  which  Coleridge  read  Schlegel's  book,  and  also 
the  fact  that  he  had  delivered  one  course  and  part  of 
another  before  he  read  it. 

Coleridge  died  in  1829,  and  in  the  preface  to  Liter- 
ary Remains  (1836)  Mr.  H.  N.  Coleridge  says :  — 

The  materials  were  fragmentary  in  the  extreme  —  Sibyl- 
line leaves  —  notes  of  the  lecturer,  memoranda  of  the  inves- 
tigator, outpourings  of  the  solitary  and  self-communing 
student.  The  fear  of  the  press  was  not  in  them. 

The  first  thing  that  occurs  to  us  is  that  Coleridge  is 
not  responsible  for  anything  printed  after  his  death 
from  such  a  heterogeneous  mass  of  material.  It  is  true 
that  he  said :  — 

I  have  already  written  materials  [for  a  work  on  Shake- 
speare and  the  Dramatists]  requiring  only  to  he  put  together 
from  the  loose  papers  and  commonplace  or  memorandum 
books  and  needing  no  other  change  whether  of  omission,  ad- 
dition, or  correction  than  the  mere  act  of  arranging.  .  .  . 
This  work  with  every  art  of  compression,  amounts  to  three 
volumes  of  about  five  hundred  pages  each. 

By  this  he  would  seem  to  claim  all  the  notes  as  his, 
but,  as  Mr.  Ashe  says,  '  the  opening  sentence  is  prob- 
ably a  marvel  of  self-deception.'  As  H.  N.  Coleridge 
says,  '  The  materials  were  fragmentary  in  the  extreme, 
and  to  give  them  method  and  continuity  was  a  delicate 
and  perplexing  task,'  —  in  which  he  failed. 

Three  of  the  passages  in  Literary  Remains  which 
are  plainly  taken  from  notes  Coleridge  translated  from 
Schlegel's  Dramatic  Literature,  with  the  correspond- 
ing passages  from  Schlegel,  are  as  follows :  — 

In  Juliet  love  has  all  that  is  tender  and  melancholy  in  the 
nightingale,  all  that  is  voluptuous  in  the  rose,  with  whatever 
is  sweet  in  the  freshness  of  the  spring,  but  it  ends  with  a 
long  deep  sigh  like  the  last  breeze  of  the  Italian  evening. 


182        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

This  unity  of  feeling  and  character  pervades  every  drama  of 
Shakespeare.  —  Coleridge,  Lectures  on  Shakespeare,  Bohn 
Edition,  p.  237. 

All  that  is  most  intoxicating  in  the  odor  of  a  southern 
spring  —  all  that  is  languishing  in  the  song  of  the  nightin- 
gale, or  voluptuous  in  the  first  opening  of  the  rose,  all  alike 
breathe  forth  from  this  poem.  .  .  .  The  fullness  of  life  and 
self-annihilation  are  here  all  brought  close  to  each  other ;  and 
yet  these  contrasts  are  so  blended  into  a  unity  of  impression, 
that  the  echo  which  the  whole  leaves  behind  in  the  mind 
resembles  a  single  but  endless  sigh.  —  Schlegel,  Dramatic 
Literature^  p.  400. 

No  work  of  true  genius  dares  want  its  appropriate  form, 
nor  indeed  is  there  any  danger  of  this.  .  .  .  The  form  is  me- 
chanic, when  on  any  given  material  we  impress  a  predeter- 
mined form,  not  necessarily  arising  out  of  the  properties  of 
the  material ;  as  when  to  a  mass  of  wet  clay  we  give  whatever 
shape  we  wish  it  to  retain  when  hardened.  The  organic  form, 
on  the  other  hand,  is  innate ;  it  shapes,  as  it  develops  itself, 
from  within,  and  the  fulness  of  its  development  is  one  and 
the  same  with  the  perfection  of  its  outward  form.  Nature, 
the  prime  genial  artist  inexhaustible  in  diverse  powers,  is 
equally  inexhaustible  in  forms.  —  Coleridge,  Lectures  on 
Shakespeare,  p.  229. 

The  works  of  genius  cannot  therefore  be  permitted  to  be 
without  form,  but  of  this  there  is  no  danger.  .  .  .  Form  is 
mechanical  when,  through  external  force,  it  is  imparted  to 
any  material  merely  as  an  accidental  addition  without  refer- 
ence to  its  quality ;  as,  for  example,  when  we  give  a  particu- 
lar shape  to  a  soft  mass  that  it  may  retain  the  same  after  its 
induration.  Organical  form,  again,  is  innate ;  it  unfolds  itself 
from  within.  ...  In  the  fine  arts  as  well  as  in  the  domain  of 
nature  —  the  supreme  artist  —  all  genuine  forms  are  organ- 
ical, that  is  determined  by  the  quality  of  the  work. — 
Schlegel,  Dramatic  Literature,  p.  340. 

The  true  poet's  work  in  its  form,  its  shapings,  and  its 
modifications  is  distinguished  from  all  other  works  that  as- 


THE  EARLY  NINETEENTH  CENTURY    183 

sume  to  belong  to  the  class  of  poetry,  as  a  natural  from  an 
artificial  flower,  or  as  the  mimic  garden  of  a  child  from  an 
enamelled  meadow.  In  the  former  the  flowers  are  broken 
from  their  stems  and  stuck  into  the  ground ;  they  are  beauti- 
ful to  the  eye  and  fragrant  to  the  sense,  but  their  colors  soon 
fade  and  their  odor  is  transient  as  the  smile  of  the  planter :  — 
while  the  meadow  may  be  visited  again  and  again  with  re- 
newed delight,  its  beauty  is  innate  in  the  soul,  and  its  bloom 
is  of  the  freshness  of  nature.  —  Coleridge,  Lectures  on 
Shakespeare,  p.  232. 

Many  productions  which  appear  at  first  sight  dazzling 
phenomena  in  the  province  of  the  fine  arts,  and  which  as  a 
whole  have  been  honored  with  the  appellation  of  works  of  a 
golden  age,  resemble  the  mimic  gardens  of  children :  impa- 
tient to  witness  the  works  of  their  hands,  they  break  off  here 
and  there  branches  and  flowers,  and  plant  them  in  the  earth ; 
everything  at  first  assumes  a  noble  appearance :  the  childish 
gardener  struts  proudly  up  and  down  among  his  showy  beds ; 
the  rootless  plants  begin  to  droop  and  hang  their  withered 
leaves  and  blossoms,  and  nothing  soon  remains  but  the  bare 
twigs,  while  the  dark  forest  on  which  no  art  or  care  was  ever 
bestowed,  and  which  towered  up  towards  heaven  long  before 
human  remembrance,  bears  every  blast  unshaken,  and  fills 
the  solitary  beholder  with  religious  awe.  —  Schlegel,  Droy 
matic  Literature,  p.  19. 

There  are  some  eight  or  nine  other  passages  where 
there  is  the  same  general  resemblance  of  simile  or 
phrase.  It  is  evident  that  Coleridge  did  not  translate 
directly,  but  that  he  read  Schlegel's  lectures  in  the 
German  and  afterwards  recalled  and  appropriated 
parts  of  them  unconsciously  in  his  notes.  It  would  be 
absurd  to  say  that  he  *  lifted  ^  phrases,  for  he  had  a 
superabundance  of  them  at  the  point  of  his  pen.  Mr. 
Saintsbury  says,  justly,  that  Coleridge  cannot  be  held 
accountable  for  anything  in  Literary  Remains,  for 
it  was  not  printed  until  some  years  after  his  death. 


184        SHAKESPEARE   AND  HIS   CRITICS 

But  the  nightingale  passage  appears  also  in  the  re- 
port of  his  lectures  at  Bristol  printed  in  1813  in  the 
Bristol  Gazette.  (^Lectures  on  Shakespeare^  P^-ge  464.) 
The  report  was  either  furnished  by  Coleridge  or  taken 
by  shorthand,  no  doubt  the  latter.  He  evidently  re- 
read his  old  notes  before  going  on  the  platform.  If  he 
took  any  papers  to  his  desk,  he  usually  made  little  use 
of  them.  A  comparison  of  the  extracts  will,  however, 
convince  any  one  that  there  is  far  more  life  and  warmth 
in  Coleridge's  words  than  in  Schlegel's.  The  resem- 
blances testify  simply  to  his  receptivity  and  to  his 
want  of  system  in  preparing  his  notes.  Coleridge  and 
Schlegel  occupied  much  the  same  critical  ground,  but 
Coleridge  never  follows  the  other  in  his  mistakes,  as, 
A^^^  for  instance,  in /regarding  Othello  as  a  negrb^  nor  in 
\jv''  his  extraordinary  statement  that  Lord  Cromwell,  Sir 

John  Oldcastle^  and  A  Yorkshire  Tragedy  are  not 
only  '  unquestionably  Shakespeare's,  but  in  my  opinion 
they  deserve  to  be  classed  among  his  best  and  maturest 
works.'  Coleridge  was  far  too  sound  a  critic  and  far  too 
deeply  imbued  with  knowledge  of  Elizabethan  literature 
to  make  such  a  statement. 

That  the  Englishman  and  the  German  agree  in  re- 
garding Shakespeare  as  a  consummate  artist  and  not  a 
'wild  irregular  genius,'  and  in  calling  his  plays  not 
tragedies  or  comedies  in  the  old  sense,  but  '  romantic 
dramas,'  is  due  to  the  fact  that  both  are  enthusiastic 
spokesmen  of  the  romantic  spirit.  A  critic  is  one  who 
loves  literature  naturally,  and  is  disposed  to  point  out 
to  others  the  beauty  of  the  parts  and  of  the  whole  of 
any  fine  production.  A  great  critic  is  one  who  loves  lit- 
etature  warmly  for  itself  and  not  from  any  professional 
bias,  and  is  impelled  to  call  the  attention  of  others  to 
what  he  loves,  and  can  put  his  appreciations  in  language 
that  compels  assent,  —  indeed,  is  itself  literature.  If  he 


THE  EARLY   NINETEENTH  CENTURY     185 

analyzes,  he  must  not  do  so  with  the  systematic  piti- 
lessness  of  a  machine,  and  above  all,  he  must  not  bring 
the  literature  of  one  period  to  the  bar  and  try  to  meas- 
ure it  by  standards  deduced  from  the  practices  of  a 
remote  time  and  a  foreign  country,  since  every  people 
develops  its  art  independently.  He  must  comprehend 
the  radical  differences  between  the  Greek  and  the  Goth 
and  the  greatness  of  each,  even  if  he  rank  Greek  art 
higher  than  that  of  his  own  race.  He  must  regard  the 
classical  tradition  as  a  frame  in  which  beautiful  things 
were  constructed  by  the  spirit  of  man,  —  so  beautiful 
as  to  be  immortal,  —  but  not  as  the  only  possible  frame 
for  literary  art,  nor,  on  the  other  hand,  as  so  far  outworn 
that  every  departure  from  its  fashions  is  necessarily 
praiseworthy  because  freed  from  restraint.  Romantic 
enthusiasm  is  not  always  inspiration. 

n  we  measure  Coleridge  by  these  considerations,  he 
is  a  great  critic,  not  merely  of  Shakespeare,  but  of 
poetry,  —  one  of  those  who  broaden  the  ideal  view  of 
their  contemporaries  and  successors,  and  emancipate 
the  spirit  of  man  from  superstitions. 

CHARLES  LAMB  (1775-1834)  ^ 

Lamb's  sympathetic  insight  into  literature,  his  mas- 
tery of  the  quaint  and  the  dexterous  phrase,  the  personal 
appeal  to  the  reader  of  his  unique  and  charming  style, 
and  his  happy  facility  of  quotation,  gave  him  more  im- 
portance as  a  literary  critic  than  can  be  allowed  to  any 
other  man  whose  production  is  so  limited.  His  speci- 
mens from  the  old  dramatists,  with  illustrative  notes, 
made  men  see  that  Shakespeare's  contemporaries  also 
possessed  some  of  the  minor  Shakespearean  qualities, 
and  showed  that  Shakespeare  was  but  one,  though  the 
greatest,  of  a  body  of  playwrights,  and  not  a  unique 
phenomenon.     In    reading    the    plays   of  Beaumont, 


186       SHAKESPEARE  AND   HIS  CRITICS 

Fletcher,  and  Massinger,  we  become  more  than  before 
aware  of  Shakespeare's  distinction.  Lamb  is  a  great 
critic,  and  he  is  so  attractive  a  person  that  it  is  almost 
impossible  to  disagree  with  him.  Even  when  he  is 
most  whimsical  or  paradoxical,  or  seems  to  admire  the 
book  because  it  is  old  and  he  has  discovered  it,  he  says 
so  many  admirable  things  which  compel  our  assent 
that  we  are  forced  to  admit  that  when  he  is  most  per- 
sonal he  is  most  delightful.  His  Shakespearean  criticism 
is  confined  almost  entirely  to  his  article  on  the  Trage- 
dies of  Shakespeare,  in  which  his  thesis  is  that  the 
Tragedies  are  too  great  for  stage  representation. 

He  makes  his  strongest  point  on  Lear.  In  proving 
that  it  is  too  great  to  be  acted,  he  impresses  on  the 
reader's  mind  the  immense  power  of  the  play.  The 
passage  may  be  found  in  the  preface  or  notes  to  every 
edition  of  the  play,  but  cannot  become  hackneyed  by 
repetition:  — 

To  see  Lear  acted  —  to  see  an  old  man  turned  out  of 
doors  by  his  daughters  on  a  rainy  night,  has  nothing  in  it 
but  what  is  painful  and  disgusting.  We  want  to  take  him 
into  shelter  and  relieve  him.  That  is  all  the  feeling  which 
the  acting  of  Lear  ever  produced  in  me.  But  the  Lear 
of  Shakespeare  cannot  be  acted.  The  contemptible  machin- 
ery by  which  they  mimic  the  storm  he  goes  out  in  is  not 
more  inadequate  to  represent  the  horrors  of  the  real  elements 
than  any  actor  can  be  to  represent  Lear ;  they  might  more 
easily  propose  to  personate  the  Satan  of  Milton  upon  a  stage, 
or  one  of  Michael  Angelo's  terrible  figures.^  The  greatness 

But  is  not  that  a  reason  why  a  great  actor  can  represent 
Lear  ?  Again,  all  the  Shakespearean  heroes  are  men  of  physical 
strength,  —  great  minds  in  perfect  frames  ;  Macbeth,  the  captain 
of  rude  levies,  not  less  than  Hamlet,  *  the  courtier,  soldier  * 
(athlete),  who  droops  when  he  foregoes  *  all  custom  of  exercises.* 
/^The  part  of  the  fool  in  Ltar^  that  lovable  compound  of  whim 
(       and  faithfulness,  simplicity  and  worldly  wisdom, — serving  at 


r 


THE  EARLY  NINETEENTH   CENTURY      187       ! 

of  Lear  is  not  in  corporal  dimensions,  but  in  intellectual. 
The  explosions  of  his  passion  are  terrible  as  a  volcano, 
they  are  storms  turning  up  and  disclosing  to  the  bottom  that 
sea,  his  mind,  with  all  its  vast  riches.  It  is  his  mind  which 
is  laid  bare.  The  case  of  flesh  and  blood  seems  too  insignifi- 
cant to  be  thought  on ;  even  as  he  himself  neglects  it.  On 
the  stage  we  see  nothing  but  corporal  infirmities  and  weak- 
nesses, the  impotence  of  rage ;  while  we  read  it  we  see  not 
Lear,  but  we  are  Lear,  —  we  are  in  his  mind,  we  are  sus- 
tained by  a  grandeur  which  baffles  the  malice  of  daughters  , 
and  storm,  in  the  aberrations  of  his  reason  we  discover  a  j 
mighty  irregular  power  of  reasoning,  immethodized  from 
the  ordinary  purposes  of  life,  but  exerting  its  powers  as 
the  wind  blows  where  it  listeth,  at  will  upon  the  corrup- 
tions and  abuses  of  mankind.  What  have  looks  or  tones  to 
do  with  that  sublime  identification  of  his  age  with  that  of 
the  heavens  themselves,  when  in  his  reproaches  to  them  for 
conniving  at  the  injustice  of  his  children  he  reminds  them 
that  *  they  themselves  are  old  '  ?  What  gesture  shall  we  ap- 
propriate to  this  ?  What  has  the  voice  or  eye  to  do  with  such 
things  ? 

Whatever  we  think  of  the  thesis,  —  'the  plays  of 
Shakespeare  are  less  calculated  for  performance  on  the 
stage  than  those  of  almost  any  other  dramatist,'  —  we 
must  admit  that  the  above  is  a  true  appreciation  of  Lear. 
When  he  says  of  The  Tempest ^  'The  Garden  of  Eden, 
with  our  first  parents  in  it,  is  not  more  impossible  to  be 
shown  on  a  stage  than  the  enchanted  isle  with  its  in- 
teresting and  innocent  first  settlers,'  we  assent.  His 
illustrations  from  Macbeth^  Hamlet^  and  Othello  are 
not  so  convincing.  He  overlooks  the  distinction  between 
dramatic  qualities  and  literary  or  poetic  qualities.  The 

once  as  relief  and  background  for  the  frightful  anarchy  that 
invades  the  faculties  of  his  master,  —  is  quite  as  difficult  as  that 
of  the  warm-hearted,  impetuous  old  king.  But  because  an  em- 
bodiment is  difficult  is  no  reason  why  it  should  be  abandoned. 


188        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS   CRITICS 

dramatic  qualities  are  action,  situation,  and  dialogue. 
Something  must  be  going  on,  and  the  movement  of 
the  story  must  be  continuous.  Situations  must  develop 
which  are  striking  and  interesting  from  either  the  scenic 
or  the  psychological  point.  The  dialogue  must  attract 
attention  either  from  its  wit  or  from  its  revealing  the 
mental  state  of  the  speakers,  or  from  both.  These  are 
not  literary  qualities  of  a  high  order,  and  a  play  which 
contains  them  and  some  florid  declamation  will  be  suc- 
cessful but  will  not  last.  The  higher  qualities  of  musical 
verse,  poetic  figures,  subtle  soul-disclosure  of  a  com- 
plicated human  personality,  ideal  correspondence  to  the 
higher  truths  of  life,  which  sometimes  runs  directly 
counter  to  the  appearances  of  the  social  life  of  man, 
these  make  great  literature.  If  a  play  possesses  dramatic 
merit,  the  literary  value  will  give  it  immortality ;  but 
the  dramatic  qualities  are  absolutely  essential,  the  poetic 
qualities  of  great  literature  are  not  essential  in  the  same 
sense.  Lamb's  argument  is,  unliterary  plays  are  some- 
times received  with  great  favor,  poetic  plays  should 
disdain  to  compete  with  them.  Poetic  plays  are  more 
injured  by  inadequate  acting  than  ordinary  declamatory 
plays,  and  are  ridiculous  when  not  well  acted,  therefore 
they  should  not  be  acted  at  all.  What  he  says  might 
apply  to  Cymheline  and  the  Winter's  Tale^  in  which 
the  true  dramatic  qualities  are  feeble,  but  not  to  Ham- 
let nor  to  Lear^  which  are  at  once  dramatic  and  literary 
plays.  In  fact,  the  part  of  Hamlet  is  more  difficult  than 
the  part  of  Lear,  except  that  the  latter  requires  more 
physical  power. 

Lamb  was  an  excellent  critic  of  acting,  as  is  shown 
in  his  paper  *  On  Some  of  the  Old  Actors '  and  '  On  the 
Acting  of  Munden.'  In  both  he  considers  the  minor, 
whimsical  character  parts.  He  had  seen  John  Kemble 
and  his  sister,  Mrs.  Siddons,  in  the  chief  Shakespearean 


THE  EARLY  NINETEENTH   CENTURY    189 

parts,  and  Edmund  Kean  in  Othello^  to  witness  whose 
performances  was,  Coleridge  said,  like  'seeing  Shake- 
speare by  flashes  of  lightning.'  Lamb  was  so  fastidious 
a  critic  and  so  devout  a  worshiper  of  Shakespeare  that 
he  may  sometimes  have  been  displeased  with  Kemble's 
level  declamation  and  Kean's  explosiveness.  But  he 
knew  that  Shakespeare's  tragedies  were  written  for  the 
stage  and  for  a  certain  company,  and  the  great  parts 
with  the  powers  of  the  actor  Burbage  always  in  the 
writer's  mind,  very  likely  after  many  consultations  with 
him.  There  is  nothing  to  show  that  Shakespeare  ever 
regarded  his  dramas  as  anything  more  than  acting  plays. 
He  wrote  them  with  the  stage  in  view,  but,  being  a  poet, 
he  made  them  literature.  Lamb  confesses  that  a  char- 
acter in  a  book  is  but  half  revealed,  that  we  must  supply 
bodily  presence,  gesture,  bearing — all  but  words  — 
from  our  own  imaginations.  A  fine  actor  works  these 
things  out  and  presents  his  '  reading.'  We  can  find 
fault  with  his  reading  without  taking  the  ground  that 
the  histrionic  art  is  always  inadequate.  Lamb  confesses 
the  pleasure  he  received  from  seeing  John  Kemble  and 
Mrs.  Siddons  in  the  principal  parts  of  a  tragedy  of 
Shakespeare.  With  whimsical  ingenuity  he  turns  this 
into  an  argument  for  his  theme. 

It  seemed  to  embody  and  realise  conceptions  which  had 
hitherto  assumed  no  distinct  shape.  But  dearly  do  we  pay  all 
our  life  after  for  this  juvenile  pleasure,  this  sense  of  distinct- 
ness. When  the  novelty  is  past,  we  find  to  our  cost  that  instead 
of  realising  an  idea  we  have  only  materialised  and  brought 
down  a  fine  vision  to  the  standard  of  flesh  and  blood.  We 
have  let  go  a  dream  in  quest  of  an  unattainable  substance. 

If  Sarah  Siddons  and  her  brother  disillusionized 
Lamb,  then  there  is  nothing  to  be  said  for  the  stage. 
Romantic  tragedy  is  impossible.  He  seems  a  little 
capricious  in  saying  :  — 


V 


190        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

I  confess  myself  utterly  unable  to  appreciate  that  cele- 
brated soliloquy  in  Hamlet  beginning  '  To  be  or  not  to  be,' 
or  to  tell  whether  it  be  good,  bad,  or  indifferent,  it  has  been 
so  handled  and  pawed  about  by  declamatory  boys  and  men, 
and  torn  so  inhumanly  from  its  living  place  and  principle  of 
continuity  in  the  play  till  it  is  become  to  me  a  perfect  dead 
member. 

Nothing  in  Shakespeare  can  be  vulgarized  by  repeti- 
tion and  quotation.  The  old  familiar  household  words 
when  found  again  in  their  places  assume  a  new  beauty, 
as  we  are  told  the  faces  of  friends  will  in  heaven. 
Whether  detached  or  in  its  place,  '  To  be  or  not  to  be  ' 
is,  like  a  starlit  night,  always  new  and  beautiful.  Lamb 
is  capricious,  but  his  affected  anger  is  a  humorous  phase 
of  his  reverence  for  the  plays  and  his  artistic  compre- 
hension. Every  one  of  his  words  on  the  subject  is 
precious. 

WILLIAM  HAZLITT  (1778-1830) 

Hazlitt,  the  son  of  a  Unitarian  minister  who  had  spent 
some  time  in  Massachusetts,  was  bred  to  be  a  painter, 
but  drifted  into  literary  work.  He  did  not  fail  as  a 
painter,  though  his  artistic  ability  could  not  have  been 
as  great  as  his  powers  as  an  essayist.  He  does  not  write 
as  a  painter,  for  the  visual  image  of  the  Shakespearean 
situations  does  not  strike  him  so  much  as  the  purely 
poetic  qualities  of  the  play.  In  the  passages  he  quotes 
for  illustration  the  verbal  harmony,  the  wit,  or  the  elo- 
quence appeal  to  him  more  than  the  picturesque  setting 
or  the  dramatic  surroundings.  He  was  by  no  means  so 
fine  a  scholar  as  Coleridge,  nor  even  as  Lamb,  for  his 
reading  did  not  cover  much  more  than  two  centuries 
of  English  literature,  and  of  the  literatures  of  other 
nations  he  knew  little  or  nothing.  He  never  alludes  to 
the  unities  nor  to  any  of  the  classical  rules,  nor  to  the 


THE  EARLY   NINETEENTH   CENTURY     191 

question  of  the  order  in  which  the  plays  were  written  ; 
it  is  a  matter  of  indifference  to  him  whether  Lear  or 
Twelfth  Night  be  the  older,  so  sure  is  he  that  there 
are  beautiful  things  in  each.  He  is  the  spiritual  son  of 
Coleridge,  but  he  cares  nothing  for  metaphysics ;  he  is 
a  romanticist  in  his  enthusiasm  and  his  independence 
of  classic  authority,  but  he  has  nothing  of  the  vague- 
ness or  the  sense  of  the  mystery  of  life  and  the  im- 
manence of  the  spiritual  world  which  mark  the  true 
romanticist. 

His  deficiences  would  seem  to  preclude  him  from 
being  a  great  critic ;  but  such  is  his  own  wit,  eloquence, 
and  enthusiasm,  and  so  unerring  is  his  perception  of 
the  beautiful  and  powerful  in  language,  that  he  is  one  \ 
of  the  most  inspiring  of  the  many  men  that  have  writ-  \ 
ten  or  lectured  on  poetry.  He  can  hardly  be  called  a 
dramatic  critic,  for  he  ignores  the  subjects  of  dramatic 
construction,  of  unity,  of  tone,  and  the  like,  nor  is  he 
particularly  felicitous  in  the  analysis  of  the  character ; 
but  he  is  emphatically  a  literary  critic.  He  regards  each  j 
play  by  itself,  and  does  not  wander  off  into  considera- 
tions about  aesthetics  or  morals  or  the  philosophy  of 
literature.  Only  one  outside  interest  was  allowed  to  bias 
his  judgment  of  a  literary  work,  and  that,  oddly  enough 
as  it  seems  to  us,  was  politics.  He  was  a  man  of  bitter 
temper,  and  an  uncompromising  radical.  He  hated  priv- 
ilege and  the  conservative  classes  with  a  pungency  which 
made  him  break  with  Coleridge  after  the  latter's  return 
to  conservatism,  though  he  never  failed  to  do  justice 
to  Coleridge's  genius,  and  speaks  in  a  well-known 
passage  with  peculiar  fervor  of  its  awakening  power 
on  himself.  He  was  an  Ishmaelite  among  essay  writers ; 
and  an  Ishmaelite  of  literary  genius  is  apt  to  make 
enemies.  Charles  Lamb  was  about  the  only  man  with 
whom  he  did  not  quarrel,  and  no  one  could  quarrel  with 


192        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

Lamb,  whose  simple,  lovable  nature  would  disarm  even 
a  more  cantankerous  person  than  William  Hazlitt. 

Kings  of  Denmark  or  Britain  are  too  remote  to  arouse 
him,  but  when  he  discusses  kings  of  England  his  polit- 
ical passion  comes  between  him  and  his  subject,  so  that 
he  sees  everything  through  a  red  mist.  He  cannot  do  just- 
ice to  Henry  V  the  King,  though  he  is  too  good  a  critic 
not  to  feel  the  poetry  of  Henry  Fthe  play.   He  says : 

Henry  V  is  a  very  favorite  monarch  with  the  English 
nation,  and  he  appears  to  have  been  a  favorite  with  Shake- 
speare, who  labors  hard  to  apologise  for  the  actions  of  the 
King  by  showing  us  the  character  of  the  man  as  the  *  King 
of  good  fellows.'  He  scarcely  deserves  this  honor.  He  was 
fond  of  war  and  low  company ;  we  know  little  else  of  him. 
He  was  careless,  dissolute,  and  ambitious ;  idle  or  doing  mis- 
chief. .  .  .  Henry  V,  it  is  true,  was  a  hero,  a  king  of  Eng- 
land, and  the  conqueror  of  the  King  of  France.  Yet  we  feel 
little  love  or  admiration  for  him.  He  was  a  hero ;  that  is,  he 
was  ready  to  sacrifice  his  own  life  for  the  pleasure  of  destroy- 
ing thousands  of  other  lives ;  he  was  a  king  of  England,  but 
not  a  constitutional  one,  and  we  only  like  kings  according  to 
the  law ;  lastly,  he  was  a  conqueror  of  the  French  King,  and 
for  this  we  dislike  him  less  than  if  he  had  conquered  the 
French  people.  How  then  do  we  like  him  ?  We  like  him  in 
the  play.  There  he  is  a  very  amiable  monster,  a  very  splendid 
pageant.  As  we  like  to  gaze  at  a  panther,  or  a  young  lion,  in 
the  Tower,  and  catch  a  pleasing  horror  from  their  glistening 
eyes,  their  velvet  paws,  and  dreadful  roar,  so  we  take  a  very 
romantic,  heroic,  and  poetical  delight  in  the  boasts  and  feats 
of  our  younger  Henry,  as  they  appear  on  the  stage  and  are 
confined  to  lines  of  ten  syllables. 

Henry  VIII  arouses  the  critic's  ire  still  more  power- 
fully:- 

The  character  of  Henry  VIII  is  drawn  with  great  truth 
and  spirit.  It  is  like  a  very  disagreeable  portrait  sketched  by 


THE   EARLY  NINETEENTH   CENTURY     193 

the  hand  of  a  master.  His  gross  appearance,  his  blustering 
demeanor,  his  vulgarity,  his  arrogance,  his  sensuality,  his 
cruelty,  his  hypocrisy,  his  want  of  common  decency  and  com- 
mon humanity  are  marked  in  strong  lines.  .  .  .  Kings  ought 
never  to  be  seen  upon  the  stage.  In  the  abstract  they  are 
very  disagreeable  characters ;  it  is  only  while  living  that  they 
are  the  best  of  kings.  .  .  .  Death  cancels  the  bond  of  alle- 
giance and  interest ;  and  seen  as  they  were,  their  power  and 
their  pretensions  look  monstrous  and  ridiculous. .  .  .  No  reader 
of  history  can  be  a  lover  of  kings.  We  have  often  wondered 
that  Henry  VIII,  as  he  is  drawn  by  Shakespeare,  and  as  we 
have  seen  him  represented  in  all  the  bloated  deformity  of 
mind  and  person,  is  not  hooted  from  the  English  stage. 

That,  of  course,  is  not  dramatic  criticism  at  all.  If  it 
were,  Macbeth  would  be  condemned  as  sternly  as  the 
Henrys.  It  is  republicanism  of  the  reign  of  George  IV, 
a  noble  political  passion  no  doubt,  and  the  inspiration  of 
eloquence,  but  not  of  literary  art,  to  which  the  question 
whether  a  character  is  liberal  or  conservative  is  of  little 
moment  compared  with  the  question,  does  the  character 
live  ?  Kings  should  be  put  upon  the  stage,  for  a  certain 
dignity  and  interest  attaches  to  their  positions,  and  they 
are  conventional  figureheads  of  society.  They  suggest 
something  far  more  important  than  the  individual.  If 
they  are,  like  Henry  V,  able  as  men  of  action  and  strik- 
ing in  their  representative  character,  the  dramatist  is 
doubly  justified.  If  they  are  neither,  like  Henry  VI, 
they  are  hardly  less  so,  so  effective  is  the  contrast  be- 
tween what  is  and  what  should  be.  Besides,  kings,  courts, 
councils,  and  the  like  are  spectacular,  and  spectacle  is  a 
legitimate  part  of  the  drama.  No  effective  picture  of  so- 
ciety can  be  made  that  does  not  portray  the  highest  as 
well  as  the  lowest  groups,  and  the  highest  and  lowest 
motives  in  humanity.  This  was  Shakespeare's  art,  and 
in  bringing  them   sometimes   close   together  he  was 


194        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

following   out  the  artistic    impulse   of  the   Teutonic 
race. 

Hazlitt's  politics  interfere  oddly  in  his  appreciation 
of  the  Merchant  of  Venice.  There  is  an  aristocratic  at- 
mosphere about  this  play.  Antonio  is  a  merchant  prince 
without  a  trace  of  the  commercial  spirit,  and  lends 
money  to  a  bankrupt  gentleman  with  a  lordly  disregard 
of  payment.  Portia  is  a  high-bred  lady,  with  all  the 
paraphernalia  of  a  '  fair  mansion,'  attendants,  musi- 
cians, and  the  like ;  so  great  an  heiress  that  her  court- 
ship is  intrusted  to  chance.  All  this  irritates  Hazlitt 
extremely,  so  much  so  that  not  only  he  overlooks  the 
womanly  beauty  of  Portia's  character,  but,  what  is  un- 
precedented with  him,  he  fails  to  do  full  justice  to  the 
poetic  passages  of  the  play.  His  sympathies  are  with 
Shylock,  jeered  at  and  insulted  by  the  aristocratic  Vene- 
tian gentlemen,  as  their  English  counterparts  of  the 
Regent's  set  jeered  at  and  insulted  Hazlitt  himself,  if 
they  did  not  ignore  him  utterly.  After  expressing  his 
admiration  of  the  dramatic  skiU  with  which  the  trial 
scene  is  worked  up,  he  says :  — 

Portia  is  not  a  very  great  favorite  with  us ;  neither  are  we 
in  love  with  her  maid,  Nerissa.  Portia  has  a  certain  degree 
of  affectation  and  pedantry  about  her,  which  is  very  unusual 
in  Shakespeare's  women,  but  which  perhaps  was  a  proper 
qualification  for  the  office  of  a  '  civil  doctor '  which  she  under- 
takes and  executes  very  successfully.  The  speech  about  mercy 
is  very  well ;  but  there  are  a  thousand  finer  ones  in  Shake- 
speare. We  do  not  admire  the  scene  of  the  caskets  and  ob- 
ject entirely  to  the  Black  Prince,  Morochius.  We  should  like 
Jessica  better  if  she  had  not  deceived  and  robbed  her  father, 
and  Lorenzo  if  he  had  not  married  a  Jewess,  though  he 
thinks  he  has  a  right  to  wrong  a  Jew.  The  dialogue  between 
this  newly  married  couple  by  moonlight  beginning,  '  On  such 
a  night,  etc.,'  is  a  collection  of  classical  elegancies. 


THE  EARLY  NINETEENTH  CENTURY    195 

This  political  radicalism  led  him  to  speak  satirically 
of  Coleridge  and  Wordsworth,  who  became  conserva- 
tive in  middle  life,  and  also  of  Scott.  His  Characters 
of  Shahespeare^  dedicated  to  Lamb,  and  his  Lectures 
on  the  Dramatic  Literature  of  the  Age  of  Elizabeth 
are  his  chief  contributions  to  dramatic  criticism.  His 
radicalism  rarely  warps  his  appreciation  of  literature, 
for  that  was  his  master  passion.  Of  Coleridge  he  wrote : 

Hardly  a  speculation  has  been  left  on  record  from  the  ear- 
liest time,  but  it  is  loosely  folded  up  in  Coleridge's  memory, 
like  a  rich  but  somewhat  tattered  piece  of  tapestry  ;  we  might 
add  (with  more  seeming  than  real  extravagance),  that  scarce 
a  thought  can  pass  through  the  mind  of  man,  but  its  sound 
has  at  some  time  or  other  passed  over  his  head  with  rustling 
pinions.  There  is  no  man  of  genius  in  whose  praise  he  de- 
scants, but  the  critic  seems  to  stand  above  the  author,  and 
what  in  him  is  weak  to  strengthen,  what  is  low  to  raise 
and  support  —  nor  is  there  any  work  of  genius  that  does  not 
come  out  of  his  hands  like  an  illuminated  missal,  sparkling 
even  in  its  defects.  If  Mr.  Coleridge  had  not  been  the  most 
impressive  talker  of  his  age,  he  would  probably  have  been 
the  finest  writer ;  but  he  lays  down  his  pen  to  make  sure  of 
an  auditor  and  mortgages  the  admiration  of  posterity  for  the 
stare  of  an  idler. 

Scott's  legitimacy  and  king  worship  was  peculiarly 
offensive  to  him.  He  defines  Scott's  poetry  as  a  '  pleas- 
ing superficiality,'  which  may  be  true  enough.  Of  his 
novels  he  says :  — 

Sir  Walter  has  found  out  (oh,  rare  discovery)  that  facts  are 
better  than  fiction,  that  there  is  no  romance  like  the  romance  of 
real  life.  .  .  .  He  has  taken  his  material  from  the  original, 
authentic  sources,  in  large  concrete  masses,  and  not  tampered 
with  or  too  much  frittered  them  away.  He  is  only  the  amanu- 
ensis of  truth  and  history.  It  is  impossible  to  say  how  fine  his 
writings  in  consequence  are,  unless  we  could  describe  how  fine 


196        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS   CRITICS 

nature  is.  In  all  that  portion  of  the  history  of  his  country 
that  he  has  touched  on,  the  manners,  the  personages,  the 
events,  the  scenery,  live  over  again  in  his  volumes.  Nothing 
is  wanting,  the  illusion  is  complete.  There  is  a  hurtling  in 
the  air,  a  trampling  of  feet  upon  the  ground,  as  these  perfect 
representatives  of  human  character  or  fanciful  belief  come 
thronging  back  on  our  imaginations. 

He  then  gives  two  pages  to  the  most  wonderful  cata- 
logue in  literature,  characterizing  each  name  with  a  line 
or  two  that  makes  it  live  again,  and  concludes :  — 

What  a  list  of  names !  What  a  host  of  associations  !  What 
a  thing  is  human  life !  What  a  power  is  that  of  genius ! 
What  a  world  of  thought  and  feeling  is  thus  rescued  from 
oblivion !  .  .  .  His  worst  is  better  than  any  other  person's 
best.  His  back-grounds  (and  his  later  works  are  little  else 
but  back-grounds  capitally  made  out)  are  more  attractive  than 
the  principal  figures  and  most  complicated  actions  of  other 
writers.  His  works,  taken  together,  are  almost  like  a  new  edi- 
tion of  human  nature.  This  is  indeed  to  be  an  author ! 

He  notes  with  astonishment  the  innumerable  and 
incessant  instances  of  bad  and  slovenly  English  in  the 
novels,  and  concludes  with  an  eloquent  lament  that  his 
writer  — 

Born  for  the  universe,  narrowed  his  mind, 

And  to  party  gave  up  what  was  meant  for  mankind. 

In  prose  it  is  what  Pope's  lament  for  Addison  is  in 
verse.  But  Hazlitt  keeps  his  literary  admiration  and  his 
political  detestation  in  separate  pages.  In  either  case 
he  puts  feeling  into  his  prose.  He  lets  himself  go.  His 
vigorous  style  betrays  the  man  as  the  oddly  associated 
thoughts  and  far-fetched  quotations  do  Lamb.  This 
gives  his  essays  on  Shakespeare  interest.  To  use  his 
favorite  word,  they  have  'gusto.'  They  are  inspiring 
rather  than  instructive,  and  inspiration  is  what  men 


THE  EARLY  NINETEENTH  CENTURY  197 

need.  Facts  they  can  pick  up  anywhere ;  like  Falstaff's 
soldiers,  they  can  '  find  linen  enough  on  every  hedge,' 
but  where  are  they  to  pick  up  notions  of  military 
honor  ? 

A  Midsummer  NigMs  Dream  is  especially  dear  to 
him  both  for  the  poetry  and  the  humor,  but  he  thinks 
when  acted  it  is  'converted  from  a  delightful  fiction 
unto  a  dull  pantomime.' 

All  that  is  finest  in  the  play  is  lost  in  the  representation. 
The  spectacle  was  grand,  but  the  spirit  was  evaporated,  the 
genius  was  fled,  .  .  .  the  idea  can  have  no  place  on  the  stage, 
which  is  a  picture  without  perspective,  everything  there  is  in 
the  foreground.  That  which  was  merely  an  airy  shape,  a 
dream,  a  passing  thought,  immediately  becomes  an  unman- 
ageable reality.  Fancy  cannot  be  embodied  any  more  than  a 
simile  can  be  painted  ;  and  it  is  as  idle  to  attempt  it  as  to  per- 
sonate Wall  or  Moonshine.  .  .  .  The  boards  of  a  theatre  and 
the  region  of  fancy  are  not  the  same  thing. 

In  The  Tempest  he  remarks  on  the  artistic  unity  of 
the  composition,  *  though  Shakespeare  has  here  given 
*'  to  airy  nothing  a  local  habitation  and  a  name,"  yet 
that  part  which  is  only  the  fantastic  creation  of  his 
mind,  has  the  same  palpable  texture  and  coheres  sembla- 
bly  with  the  rest.  The  human  and  imaginary  characters, 
the  dramatic  and  the  grotesque,  are  blended  together 
with  the  greatest  art  and  without  any  appearance  of  it.' 
As  the  preternatural  part  has  the  air  of  reality  and 
almost  haunts  the  imagination  with  a  sense  of  truth,  the 
real  characters  and  events  partake  of  the  wildness  of  a 
dream.  He  says :  — 

Shakespeare's  pencil  is,  to  use  an  allusion  of  his  own,  *  like 
the  dyer's  hand,'  subdued  to  what  it  works  in.  Everything  in 
him,  though  it  partakes  of  the  *  liberty  of  wit,'  is  also  sub- 
jected to  the  law  of  the  understanding.  For  instance,  even 
the  drunken  sailors  share,  in  the  disorder  of  their  minds  and 


198        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS   CRITICS 

bodies,  in  the  tumult  of  the  elements,  and  seem  on  shore  to 
be  as  much  at  the  mercy  of  chance  as  they  were  before  at 
the  mercy  of  the  winds  and  waves. 

The  character  of  Caliban  is  generally  thought  —  and  justly 
so  —  to  be  one  of  the  author's  masterpieces.  It  is  not  indeed 
pleasant  to  see  this  character  on  the  stage,  any  more  than  it 
is  to  see  the  god  Pan  personated  there.  But  in  itself  it  is  one 
of  the  wildest  and  most  abstracted  of  all  Shakespeare's  char- 
acters ;  whose  deformity,  whether  of  body  or  mind,  is 
redeemed  by  the  power  and  truth  of  the  imagination  dis- 
played in  it.  It  is  the  essence  of  grossness,  but  there  is  not 
a  particle  of  vulgarity  in  it.  Shakespeare  has  described  the 
brutal  mind  of  Caliban  in  contrast  with  the  pure  and  origi- 
nal forms  of  nature ;  the  character  grows  out  of  the  soil 
where  it  is  rooted,  uncontrolled,  uncouth,  and  wild,  uncramped 
by  any  of  the  meannesses  of  custom.  It  is  *of  the  earth, 
earthy.'  It  seems  almost  to  have  been  dug  out  of  the  ground, 
with  a  soul  instinctively  superadded  to  it,  answering  to  its 
wants  and  origin. 

In  his  paper  on  Lear  Hazlitt  writes :  — 

All  that  we  can  say  must  fall  far  short  of  the  subject,  or 
even  of  what  we  ourselves  conceive  of  it.  .  .  .  It  is  the  great- 
est of  all  Shakespeare's  plays,  for  it  is  the  one  in  which  he 
was  most  in  earnest.  He  was  here  fairly  caught  in  the 
weh  of  his  own  imagination.  The  passion  which  he  has  taken 
as  his  subject  is  that  which  strikes  its  root  deepest  into  the 
human  heart,  of  which  the  bond  is  the  hardest  to  be  unloosed ; 
and  the  cancelling  and  tearing  to  pieces  of  which  gives  the 
greatest  revulsion  to  the  frame. 

To  say  that  Shakespeare  here  was  'caught  in  the 
web  of  his  imagination'  apparently  contradicts  what 
he  had  so  finely  said  in  his  critique  on  The  Tempest : 
'  Everything  in  him,  though  it  partakes  of  the  liberty 
of  wit,  is  also  subject  to  the  law  of  understanding,*  but 
a  critic  like  Hazlitt,  who  flashes  a  penetrating  light  first 


THE  EARLY  NINETEENTH  CENTURY     199 

on  one  then  on  another  of  the  Shakespearean  structures, 
cannot  be  held  always  to  the  same  disclosure.*  When 
he  is  writing  on  Lear  the  relation  of  father  and  daughter 
seems  to  him  the  most  sacred  and  beautiful  of  ties.  Haz- 
litt  sees  distinctly  before  him  the  play  he  is  criticising. 
Had  he  thought  of  Hamlet  or  Othello^  he  would  have 
felt  that  the  bond  between  mother  and  son  or  between 
husband  and  wife  is  no  less  fundamental,  and  its  viola- 
tion fraught  with  no  less  profound  a  moral  catastrophe 
than  the  unnatural  disregard  of  the  filial  relation  by 
Lear's  daughters.  One  of  the  great  values  of  Shake- '^ 
speare*s  tragedies  is  that  the  motive  force  in  each  is  i 
one  of  the  primal,  underlying  instincts  of  humanity,  or,  | 
at  least,  of  Teutonic  humanity,  on  which  the  entire  so-  , 
cial  order  rests.  It  is  this  which  gives  them  their  uni- 
versal appeal.  The  early  notion  of  tragedy,   as  seen 
in  Chaucer's  De  Casibus    Virorum  lllustrium  (The 
Monke's  Tale)  is  stories  of  men  who  had  fallen  from 
prosperity  to  adversity.  The  monk  begins :  — 

I  wol  biwayle  in  maner  of  Tragedie, 
The  harm  of  hem  that  stode  in  heigh  degree, 
And  fillen  so  that  ther  nas  no  remedio 
To  bringe  hem  out  of  hir  adversitee. 

This  is  concrete  misfortune,  no  doubt  a  very  serious 
matter,  and  one  which  the  most  thoughtless  can  under- 
stand ;  but  Shakespeare  made  the  stuff  of  tragedy  to 
consist  in  an  outrage  to  the  soul,  so  that  a  man  might  * 
be  a  tragic  figure  while  outwardly  prosperous  —  an  hon-  ' 

*  Of  the  admirable  passage  beginning  '  The  cloud-capped 
towers,  the  gorgeous  palaces,'  Hazlitt  says,  *  It  has  been  so  often 
quoted  that  every  school-hoy  knows  it  by  heart.*  Of  Byron  he  says, 
'  He  dwells  chiefly  (in  Childe  Harold)  on  what  is  familiar  to  every 
school-hoy.'  Here  is  'Macaulay's  school-boy'  appearing  in  print 
while  Macaulay  was  still  at  school.  Is  he  not  really  *  Hazlitt's 
school-boy  *  ? 


200        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

ored  general,  a  '  chiefest  courtier,'  or  an  ex-king,  vexed 
only  by  trifling  inattentions.  The  *  minds '  of  all  '  are 
full  of  scorpions.'  As  Hazlitt  comes  to  write  of  each, 
he  feels  for  each  ;  but  he  does  not  generalize  —  and  per- 
haps it  is  as  well — nor  see  that  in  each  case  the  tragic 
motive  strikes  the  same '  deep  root  into  the  human  heart,' 
far  deeper  than  '  mutation  of  fortune'  can  reach. 
1  He  sympathizes  deeply  with  Hamlet,  for  '  the  play  has 
a  prophetic  truth,  which  is  above  that  of  history.'  There 
was  a  restless  intensity  of  spirit  in  Hazlitt,  and  a  sense 
of  the  mystery  of  life  and  of  the  irony  of  things,  which 
drew  him  to  the  Danish  Prince  whom  no  one  precisely 
understands.  He  makes  the  excellent  criticism :  — 

Shakespeare  had  more  of  the  magnanimity  of  genius  than 
any  other  poet,  and  he  has  shown  more  of  it  in  this  play  than 
in  any  other.  There  is  no  attempt  to  force  our  interest ;  every- 
thing is  left  to  time  and  circumstances.  The  attention  is  ex- 
cited without  premeditation  or  effort,  the  incidents  succeed 
each  other  as  matters  of  course,  the  characters  think  and  speak 
and  act  just  as  they  would  do  if  left  entirely  to  themselves. 
There  is  no  set  purpose,  no  straining  at  a  point.  The  obser- 
vations are  suggested  by  the  passing  scene  —  the  gusts  of  pas- 
sion come  and  go  like  sounds  of  music  borne  on  the  wind. 

There  is  undoubtedly  justice  in  this.  There  is  very 
little  of  the  '  constructed  plot '  in  the  play.  Things  drift 
under  the  influence  of  the  characters  and  the  situation. 
Hazlitt  was  much  stronger  in  pointing  out  detachable 
poetic  beauties  and  in  appreciating  the  atmosphere  — 
the  Ethos  —  of  the  entire  play  than  in  analyzing  the 
characters.  Like  his  contemporaries  he  is  misled  by  the 
pathos  of  Ophelia's  position. 

Ophelia  is  a  character  almost  too  exquisitely  touching  to  be 
dwelt  upon.  Oh,  rose  of  May,  oh,  flower  too  soon  faded !  ^  Her 
love,  her  death,  are  described  with  the  truest  touches  of  ten- 

^  This  passage  recalls  Schlegel's  words  on  the  same  character. 


THE  EARLY   NINETEENTH  CENTURY    201 

derness  and  pathos.  It  is  a  character  which  nobody  but 
Shakespeare  could  have  drawn  in  the  way  that  he  has  done, 
and  to  the  conception  of  which  there  is  not  even  the  smallest 
approach  except  in  some  of  the  old  romantic  ballads. 

Shakespeare's  characters  are  so  much  like  natural 
products  that  a  certain  amount  of  scientific  realism  is 
necessary  to  their  interpretation.  The  romanticist  al- 
lows his  feelings  to  carry  him  away  in  contemplating  the 
innocent  and  the  unfortunate,  and  Hazlitt,  with  all  his 
bitterness  and  radicalism,  is  at  heart  a  romanticist.  His 
pessimism  is  amusingly  shown  in  his  critique  on  Twelfth 
Night.  This,  he  thinks,  is  '  full  of  sweetness  and  pleas- 
antry.' *It  is  perhaps  too  good-natured  for  comedy.' 
'  It  has  little  satire  and  no  spleen.'  '  It  aims  at  the  lu- 
dicrous rather  than  the  ridiculous,'  and  makes  us  '  laugh 
at  the  follies  of  mankind  rather  than  despise  them.* 
But  that  is  the  true  nature  of  the  comic  spirit.  It  is 
amused,  not  indignant  with  the  world.  It  cannot  be 
*  too  good-natured ' ;  its  very  essence  is  high  spirits  com- 
bined with  whimsical  insight.  It  reinstates  Malvolio, 
and  draws  no  moral  from  Toby  and  the  foolish  Knight. 
It  leaves  Satire  to  the  severer  muse  of  Measure  for 
Measure.  This  Hazlitt  thinks  a  play  as  '  full  of  genius 
as  it  is  of  wisdom,'  though  there  is  an  '  original  sin  in 
the  nature  of  the  subject  which  prevents  us  from  tak- 
ing a  cordial  interest  in  it.'  Hazlitt  is  never  quite  consist- 
ent, for  if  a  comedy  should  make  us  '  despise  mankind,' 
Measure  for  Measure  is  a  model.  But  he  is  always  con- 
sistent in  his  love  for  poetry. 

His  paper  on  Macbeth  strikes  out  many  things  that 
are  now  the  commonplaces  of  criticism  ;  the  underlying 
superstition  of  the  murderer,  the  combination  of  moral 
weakness  and  physical  strength  in  him,  the  darkness 
and  gloom  so  continually  used  as  figures,  the  abrupt- 
ness of  the  style  so  harmonious  with  the  violence  of  the 


202        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS   CRITICS 

action,  are  all  referred  to  with  force  and  point.  In 
speaking  of  Mrs.  Siddons  as  Lady  Macbeth,  he  says : — 

We  can  conceive  of  nothing  grander.  It  was  something 
above  nature.  It  seemed  almost  as  if  a  being  of  a  superior 
order  had  dropped  from  a  higher  sphere  to  awe  the  world 
with  the  majesty  of  her  appearance.  Power  was  seated  on  her 
brow,  passion  emanated  from  her  breast  as  from  a  shrine ; 
she  was  tragedy  personified.  In  coming  on  from  the  sleeping 
scene,  her  eyes  were  open  but  their  sense  was  shut.  She  was 
like  a  person  bewildered  and  unconscious  of  what  she  did. 
Her  lips  moved  involuntarily  —  all  her  gestures  were  invol- 
untary and  mechanical.  She  glided  on  and  off  the  stage  like 
an  apparition.  To  have  seen  her  in  that  character  was  an 
event  in  one's  life  not  to  be  forgotten. 

He  notices  that  Shakespeare  excelled  in  the  openings 
of  his  plays,  and  reverts  again  to  the  sense  of  reality 
the  poet  imparts  to  his  scene :  — 

The  Castle  of  Macbeth,  round  which  the  *  air  smells  woo- 
ingly  *  and  where  the  '  temple-haunting  martlett  builds,'  has  a 
real  subsistence  in  the  mind  ;  the  weird  Sisters  meet  us  in  per- 
son on  the  *  blasted  heath ' ;  ^  the  '  air-drawn  dagger '  moves 
slowly  before  our  eyes;  the  *  gracious  Duncan,'  the  blood-bol- 
teredBanquo  stand  before  us  ;  all  that  passed  through  the  mind 
of  Macbeth  passes,  without  the  loss  of  a  tittle,  through  ours. 

Hazlitt  mentioned  Schlegel  with  high  commenda- 
j  tion,  and  quotes  freely  from  him.  At  the  same  time  he 
derives  directly  from  Coleridge.  There  is  little  of  the 
habitual  reference  to  related  principles  of  human  na- 
ture and  art,  and  nothing  of  the  wide  reading  of  the 
great  master  of  criticism  in  the  brilliant  discourse  of 
the  younger  man ;  but  it  is  plain  that  he  has  been 
roused  with  a  contagious  enthusiasm  —  his  '  eye  glares 

^  Is  not  that  phrase  very  remotely  a  reminiscence  of  Maurice 
Morgann  ?  See  page  161. 


THE  EARLY   NINETEENTH   CENTURY    203 

with  the  frenzy  of  a  kindred  inspiration.'  It  is  easy  to 
say  that  Hazlitt  '  adds  nothing  to  the  sum  of  human 
information.'  That  may  be  true,  but  he  adds  to  the 
sum  of  poetic  enjoyment,  a  much  more  important  incre- 
ment. His  work  may  be  called  '  sign«board  criticism ' 
by  those  who  without  a  sign-board  would  not  know 
what  to  admire.  At  all  events  his  sign-board  is  illumi- 
nated from  time  to  time  with  electric  flashes,  that  show 
the  road  to  be  quite  other  than  we  thought  it. 

Hazlitt  is  directly  in  line  with  the  great  English 
critics,  from  Coleridge  to  Bradley.  His  very  want  of  any 
theory  of  art  was  one  of  his  excellences,  for  it  enabled 
him  to  fix  his  attention  on  the  poetry,  which  is  lasting, 
and  not  on  a  system  of  rules  which  changes  with  every 
generation.  We  cannot  say  that  what  he  says  we  would 
'  have  found  out  for  ourselves,'  for  that  would  be  to 
credit  ourselves  with  his  insight.  Again,  a  thought  ex- 
pressed by  a  writer  like  Hazlitt  has  vitality,  for  it  is 
the  form  that  gives  thought  germinal  power.  When  a 
thought  or  a  point  of  view  has  become  part  of  the 
traditionary  stock,  the  next  generation  says,  *  That  is 
true,  but  it  is  too  obvious.  It  is  a  mere  rhetorical  com- 
monplace. Give  us  something  mystical  that  we  can 
pretend  to  understand,  and  in  doing  so  enjoy  a  sense 
of  superiority.'  They  forget  that  a  great  many  things 
that  are  now  obvious  were  not  so  till  genius  pointed 
them  out. 

While  Coleridge,  Lamb,  and  Hazlitt  were  writing  on 
the  poetry  and  philosophy  of  the  plays  in  the  tone  of 
enthusiastic  romanticism,  another  set  of  critics  confined 
themselves  to  elucidating  the  text  and  publishing  new 
editions.  Some  of  them  published  commentaries,  or,  as 
they  were  usually  called.  Illustrations  of  Shakespeare, 
Among  them  were  Francis  Douce  (1757-1834),  Joseph 
Hunter   (1783-1861),   Joseph   Singer  (1786-1866), 


204        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS   CRITICS 

Alexander  Dyce  (1798-1869),  Charles  Knight  (1790- 
1873),  and  John  Payne  Collier  (1789-1883).  These 
men  were  diligent  workers  in  the  Shakespearean  field, 
and  their  contributions  have  been  carefully  sifted  and 
the  wheat  separated  from  the  chaff  in  the  notes  of  Mr. 
Furness's  Variorum.  As  a  rule  they  were  antiquaries 
of  the  early  nineteenth-century  type,  and,  with  the  pos- 
sible exception  of  Knight,  did  little  to  promote  the  aes- 
thetic appreciation  of  the  plays. 

Mr.  Douce's  two  volumes  of  Illustrations  of  Shake- 
speare, 1808,  are  among  the  most  entertaining  and  in- 
structive books  on  the  subject.  They  contain  comments 
on  the  readings  in  Steevens's  edition,  which  are  marked 
throughout  by  good  sense  and  good  temper.  Especially 
valuable  is  the  article  on  the  '  clowns  and  fools '  from 
the  fourteenth  century  down,  and  the  notes  on  early 
social  customs  and  superstitions,  such  as  blessing  the 
marriage  bed,  the  '  Morris  dance,'  the  betrothal,  lace- 
making,  the  fairies,  etc.  These  are  illustrated  by  very 
interesting  reproductions  of  ancient  woodcuts.  No  book 
contributes  more  to  reproducing  the  atmosphere  of  Old 
England.  Mr.  Douce's  minute  learning  and  retentive 
memory  enable  him  to  supply  a  wealth  of  illustrative 
passages  from  early  authors,  though  his  parallelisms  are 
sometimes  rather  far-fetched. 

Charles  Knight's  Pictorial  Shakespeare,  completed 
in  1841,  is  well  known,  — a  sumptuous  illustrated  book, 
the  plates  by  the  best  artists  of  the  time.  His  Cabinet 
Edition  was  also  well  received.  In  both  he  prudently 
adheres  to  the  First  Folio  in  questions  of  disputed  read- 
ings. These  and  the  handsomely  printed  edition  of 
Alexander  Chalmers  in  nine  volumes  (1809),  based  on 
the  work  of  Steevens,  are,  however,  little  more  than 
publishers'  ventures. 

John  Payne  Collier's  History  of  English  Dramatic 


THE  EARLY  NINETEENTH   CENTURY    205 

Poetry^  1883,  is  a  work  involving  a  great  deal  of  re- 
search, and  is  valuable  for  throwing  light  on  the  de- 
velopment of  the  theatre.  In  1854  he  published  a  single- 
volume  edition  of  the  plays,  adopting  a  multitude  of 
new  readings  on  the  authority  of  written  notes  in  a  copy 
of  the  Second  Folio  he  had  purchased.  He  adhered  to 
these  emendations  in  his  six-volume  edition  of  1858. 
His  contention  was  that  the  marginal  notes  in  his  copy 
of  the  folio,  known  from  the  name  of  one  of  its  owners 
as  the  'Perkins  Folio,'  were  made  in  the  seventeenth 
century  before  the  Restoration,  and  consequently  by 
some  one  who  had  heard  the  plays  given  by  actors  who 
were  governed  by  traditions  of  the  author's  stage  direc- 
tions. The  question  of  the  value  of  these  thirteen  hun- 
dred corrections  is  treated  exhaustively  by  Richard 
Grant  White  in  the  Shakespeare  Scholar^  and  it  is 
shown  that  most  of  them  had  been  anticipated,  and  few, 
not  more  than  117,  are  even  plausible.  He,  however, 
acquits  Collier  of  conscious  deceit.  On  the  question  of 
their  genuineness,  experts  have  shown  that  they  are  in 
two  different  handwritings  and  that  some  of  them  are 
palpably  modern  forgeries.  It  is  difficult  to  determine 
how  far  Mr.  Collier  is  guilty ;  probably  he  at  first  de- 
ceived himself  and  then  was  tempted  to  buttress  his 
cause  by  forgery.  He  also  presented  several  Elizabethan 
documents  which  are  plainly  forgeries  but  were  copied 
in  reputable  publications.  A  letter  from  the  Earl  of 
Southampton  concerning  Burbage  and  Shakespeare  is 
likely  to  startle  the  student  in  the  preface  to  some  of 
the  early  nineteenth-century  editions,  for  it  is  a  very 
ingenious  and  plausible  fabrication.  The  matter  created 
great  excitement  at  the  time,  and  Mr.  Collier  behaved 
exactly  like  an  innocent  person.  The  question,  though 
interesting,  does  not  bear  on  criticism,  least  of  all  on 
aesthetic  criticism,  and  need  not  detain  us. 


206        SHAKESPEARE  AND   HIS   CRITICS 

Collier  discovered  in  the  British  Museum  a  manu- 
script diary  of  John  Maningham,  containing  an  inter- 
esting account  of  the  first  presentation  of  Twelfth  Night 
before  the  lawyers*  society,  February  2,  1602,  at  the 
Middle  Temple.  Collier  misquotes  it  in  his  History 
of  Dramatic  Poetry^  and  it  was  afterwards  found  by 
Hunter,  who  claims  —  apparently  —  original  discovery. 
Hunter  unearthed  the  personality  of  John  Maningham, 
and,  following  out  the  reference  to  the  Italian  play 
GV  Inganni  (the  cheats),  showed  that  the  plot  bears  more 
resemblance  to  GV Inganniti  (the  cheated),  making  it 
slightly  probable  that  Shakespeare  could  read  Italian. 

Joseph  Hunter  was  a  man  of  curious,  antiquarian 
learning,  and  we'are  indebted  to  him  for  his  Collections 
concerning  the  Founders  of  New  Plymouth^  N  E,  He 
published  in  1845  two  volumes  of  Illustrations  of  the 
Life^  Studies,  and  Writings  of  Shakespeare,  He  made 
the  extraordinary  mistake  of  regarding  The  Tempest  as 
an  early  play  and  the  original  of  Love's  Labour 's  Won, 
mentioned  by  Meres.  This  of  course  deprives  him  of 
the  least  consideration  as  a  judge  of  literature,  but  in 
several  cases  his  out-of-the-way  learning  enables  him  to 
throw  new  light  on  obscure  passages  and  obsolete  ex- 
pressions. He  inclines  to  give  too  much  authority  to  the 
Second  Folio  in  cases  of  considerable  variation.  His 
book  is  full  of  instances  of  parallelisms  from  literature 
contemporary  with  Shakespeare,  usually  more  curious 
than  convincing.  He  gives  a  full  account  of  the  name 
of  Shakespeare  and  its  variants,  from  Shagsper  and 
Saxpere  down,  and  a  history  of  Shakespeare's  father's 
family  and  descendants,  in  which  he  adds  little  to  the 
researches  of  Malone. 

Joseph  Singer  brought  out  a  ten-volume  edition  in 
1826,  characterized  by  careful  collection  of  existing 
authorities  and  commentaries,  giving  to  the  First  Folio 


THE  EARLY  NINETEENTH  CENTURY  207 

preponderant  authority.  Later  he  attacked  Collier's 
emendations  with  great  vigor. 

Alexander  Dyce,  known  for  his  editions  of  the  plays 
of  Middleton,  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  Marlowe,  Web- 
ster, and  Greene,  published  an  edition  of  Shakespeare 
in  nine  volumes  in  1857,  and  another  in  1864,  in  which 
he  retracted  many  of  his  former  readings.  In  spite  of 
his  unfortunate  indecisions,  his  textual  criticism  is  of 
high  value,  and  his  glossary  excellent.  His  remarks  on 
Knight's  and  Collier's  editions  (1854)  revive  the  tradi- 
tion of  good,  old  eighteenth-century  critical  vitupera- 
tion ;  e.  ^.,  of  Knight's  Hamlet  he  remarks  with  can- 
dor, *  of  which  tragedy  his  text  is  beyond  all  doubt  the 
worst  that  has  appeared  in  modern  times.'  '  To  suppose 
(as  Caldecot  does)  that  "  the  most  fond  and  winnowed 
opinions  "  could  mean  all  judgments,  not  the  simplest 
only,  but  the  most  sifted  and  wisest,  is  little  short  of 
insanity.' 

*  What  he  says  here  about  Cleopatra's  "  wand  lip  " 
(i.  e.,  that  her  lip  is  as  potent  as  a  magician's  wand) 
cannot  be  allowed  the  merit  of  originality ;  at  least  it 
had  been  previously  said  in  that  mass  of  folly,  ignor- 
ance, and  conceit,  Jackson's  Shakespeare^ s  Genius 
Justified.^ 

O  good  old  man,  how  well  in  thee  appears 
The  constant  [wrangling]  of  the  antique  world. 

The  above  is  by  no  means  an  exhaustive  list  of  the 
commentaries  up  to  1850,  when  the  work  was  sifted  by 
the  editors  of  the  Cambridge  Edition. 

Thomas  Tyrwhitt  (1730-86),  the  learned  editor  of 
Chaucer,  published  anonymously  in  1776  Observations 
and  Conjectures  upon  Some  Passages  of  SJiahe- 
spear e^  and  gave  many  suggestions  to  Malone.  William 
Sidney  Walker  (1795-1846)  was  an  acute  textual  critic. 


208        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

His  Critical  Examination  and  Notes  on  the  Plays 
and  Poems  was  not  published  till  after  his  death,  and 
is  of  recognized  value.  But  most  of  the  men  mentioned 
were  merely  antiquarians,  *  wrapped  in  the  funeral 
shroud  of  erudition.'  They  hunt  up  microscopic  facts 
with  little  reference  to  their  correlation;  they  throw 
light  on  the  meaning  of  the  text,  not  on  its  significance. 
They  say  nothing  of  the  plays  as  poetry  beyond  refer- 
ring to  the  force  or  harmony  of  individual  lines.  Char- 
acters, construction,  and  philosophy,  the  higher  techni- 
cal qualities  and  the  higher  poetic  qualities,  they  ignore. 
Between  these  and  such  critics  as  Coleridge,  Lamb,  and 
Hazlitt  there  is  a  great  gulf  fixed.  They  illustrate  one 
side  of  English  historical  scholarship,  the  uninspired 
side.  Their  virtues  are  industry  and  good  sense,  and 
they  evince  their  good  sense  by  dealing  with  material 
suited  to  their  powers.  They  do  not  in  any  way  illus- 
trate and  forward  the  progress  of  the  human  mind  as 
the  others  do. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

FOREIGN  CRITICISM  OF  SHAKESPEARE 

Although  the  object  of  this  book  is  to  trace  the 
course  of  English  appreciation  of  Shakespeare's  plays 
as  shown  in  a  few  of  the  most  authoritative  writers, 
German  and  French  criticism  has,  since  the  eighteenth 
century,  reacted  so  profoundly  on  English  thought  that 
a  brief  outline  of  the  most  important  of  the  foreign 
writings  is  necessary  even  in  a  general  sketch  of  the 
subject.  At  present,  translations  of  Shakespeare's  plays 
are  more  frequently,  and  on  the  whole  better,  presented 
in  Germany  and  Austria  than  the  originals  are  in  Eng- 
land and  America.  This  is  owing,  first,  to  the  exist- 
ence in  all  the  important  continental  cities  of  theatres 
under  official  control  and  aided  by  the  state  or  munici- 
pality ;  second,  to  the  thorough  and  painstaking  man- 
ner in  which  Germans  carry  out  any  undertaking ;  and 
third,  to  the  fact  that  they  have  not  fallen  into  the 
habit  of  lavish  expenditure  in  scenic  decoration  which 
in  our  country,  and  in  England,  too,  has  made  the  cost 
of  the  representation  of  a  Shakespearean  play  so  great 
as  to  be  almost  prohibitive,  besides  distracting  the  au- 
dience from  imaginative  appreciation  of  the  play.  It  is 
greatly  to  be  regretted  that  the  popular  educative  value 
of  Shakespeare's  wonderful  art  is  therefore  largely  lost 
among  those  who  speak  his  language ;  indeed,  it  is  no- 
thing less  than  a  national  misfortune ;  but  at  present 
we  can  only  regret  it  without  much  hope  for  its  amel- 
ioration. 

A  translation  of  a  great  poem  is  at  best  but  a  shadow 
and  a  suggestion  of  the  original,  for  the  substance  is  so 


210        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS   CRITICS 

intimately  connected  with  the  form,  and  even  with 
minor  elements  of  the  form  —  the  versification,  the 
phrasing,  the  peculiar  poetic  association  with  certain 
words  —  that  it  can  never  be  reproduced  except  in  a 
few  happy  instances  when  a  lyric  carried  from  one  lan- 
guage into  another  is  a  new  poem  equal  to  the  original. 
German  lends  itself  admirably  to  translations,  and  the 
Germans  are  Teutonic,  and  in  consequence  much  of 
the  substance  and  form  of  a  Shakespearean  play  is  not 
foreign  to  them.  They  have  perfected  laboriously,  and 
with  an  approximation  to  the  spirit  of  the  original, 
their  translation  since  the  day  of  Schlegel,  but  there 
are  elements  which  must  necessarily  escape  them.  The 
humor  of  each  nation  is  its  own,  and  no  one  who  has 
not  been  familiar  with  it  since  childhood  can  readily 
take  the  national  humorous  attitude.  Even  the  dull 
come  to  have  a  vague  comprehension  of  the  popular 
form  of  jesting,  which  remains  more  or  less  incompre- 
hensible to  the  cultured  foreigner,  or  at  best  is  regarded 
ah  extra^  as  something  peculiar  and  amusing  but  not 
germane  to  him.  Novalis  (F.  von  Hardenberg)  said 
that  he  could  not  understand  Shakespeare's  fun,  and 
that  the  humor  of  Aristophanes  was  more  comprehens- 
ible to  him.  Rarely,  too,  can  the  entire  content  of  an 
English  word  be  felt  by  one  who  has  learned  the  lan- 
guage at  school,  and  very  rarely,  unless  it  be  some  con- 
crete thing  or  a  simple  physical  action,  can  it  be  fully 
rendered  by  a  foreign  word.  Take  a  simple  case.  Fal- 
staff  has  been  much  amused  by  the  senile  boasts  of  Mr. 
Justice  Shallow.*  He  recalls  the  time  when  Shallow 
was  at  Clement's  Inn,  a  foolish  youth,  and,  contrasting 
his  past  insignificance  with  his  present  position,  says : 
*  And  now  has  he  land  and  beeves.*  There  is  no  other 
word  in  the  language  to  take  the  place  of  'beeves,' 
with  its  subtle  suggestion  of  rural  opulence.  Certainly 


FOREIGN  CRITICISM  OF  SHAKESPEARE    211 

'  cattle '  or  '  steers '  would  be  much  weaker,  and  it  may 
be  doubted  whether  there  is  another  word  in  any  lan- 
guage that  would  have  the  slight  humorous  effect  of 
'beeves.'  This  difficulty  renders  the  best  translation 
inadequate,  and  leads  the  foreign  critic  into  mistakes 
which  the  native,  even  of  inferior  culture,  instinctively 
avoids.  But  there  is  so  much  of  Shakespeare  besides 
humor  and  phrasing,  that  the  Germans,  and  in  a  less 
degree  the  French,  do  possess  him,  and  what  they  have 
to  say  is  entitled  to  respect  on  higher  grounds  than 
curiosity  to  learn  how  a  national  literature  strikes  for- 
eigners. 

In  the  seventeenth  century  France  was  the  arbiter  of 
elegance  for  Germany,  especially  in  the  drama.  A  very 
curious  importation  of  dramatic  themes  from  England 
had  taken  place  earlier,  but  had  been  forgotten.  The 
French  drama  was  completely  under  the  influence  of 
the  classical  tradition,  and  Corneille  and  Racine  were 
imitated  on  the  German  stage.  This  influence  was  com- 
bated by  Lessing,  poet,  philosopher,  art-critic,  play- 
wright, and  in  addition  a  man  of  admirable  judgment 
and  independence  of  character.  His  dramatic  and  the- 
atrical criticism  is  contained  chiefly  in  Literary  Letters 
and  Dramatic  Notes  on  the  plays  presented  in  the 
Hamburg  Theatre  (1767-69).  In  these  he  incidentally 
maintains  the  superiority  of  Shakespeare  in  the  essen- 
tials of  dramatic  art,  and  declares  that  the  French 
writers  adhered  to  the  form  and  misunderstood  the 
spirit  of  Aristotle's  rules.  He  compares  the  ghost  in 
Hamlet  to  the  ghost  in  Voltaire's  Semiramis,  greatly 
to  the  disadvantage  of  the  Frenchman.  Of  the  unity  of 
time  in  the  same  writer's  Merope  he  says  :  — 

What  good  does  it  do  the  poet,  that  the  particular  actions 
that  occur  in  every  act  would  not  require  much  more  time 
for  their  real  occurrence  than  is  occupied  by  the  representa- 


212        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

tion  of  each  act,  and  that  this  time,  including  what  is  ab- 
sorbed between  the  acts,  would  not  require  a  complete  revo- 
lution of  the  sun ;  has  he  therefore  regarded  the  unity  of 
time  ?  He  has  fulfilled  the  words  of  the  rule,  but  not  their 
spirit.  For  what  he  lets  happen  in  one  day  can  be  done  in 
one  day,  it  is  true,  but  no  sane  mortal  would  do  it  in  one  day. 
Physical  unity  of  time  is  not  sufficient,  the  moral  unity  must 
also  be  considered. 

He  quotes  with  approbation  from  the  English  critic, 
Hurd:  — 

Shakespeare,  we  may  observe,  in  this  [delineation  of  human 
parts],  as  in  all  the  more  essential  beauties  of  the  drama,  is 
a  perfect  model.  If  the  discerning  reader  peruse  attentively 
his  comedies,  he  will  find  his  best  marked  characters  discours- 
ing through  a  great  deal  of  their  parts  just  like  any  others, 
and  only  expressing  their  essential  and  leading  qualities  oc- 
casionally, and  as  circumstances  occur  to  give  an  easy  exposi- 
tion to  them. 

It  is  to  be  regretted  that  no  plays  of  Shakespeare 
were  given  at  the  Hamburg  Theatre  while  Lessing  was 
writing  his  Hamhurgische  Dramaturgies  for  we  should 
have  had  some  criticism  of  the  highest  order.  Ulrici 
says  :  '  He  commended  Shakespeare,  not  because  of  sin- 
gle beauties  in  his  works,  in  the  manner  of  the  English 
critics  of  the  time,  but  because  of  beauty  itself,  because 
of  the  agreement  of  Shakespeare's  works  with  the  true 
rules  of  art,  and  with  the  true  nature  of  art.' 

The  first  German  translation  was  twenty-two  plays 
by  Wieland,  published  in  eight  volumes,  from  1762  to 
1766.  This  was  in  prose,  and  of  course  could  give  but 
a  pale  reflex  of  the  poetic  substance.  Eschenburg's 
complete  translation  soon  followed,  and  acting  versions 
were  based  on  these  and  presented  after  1780  by 
Schroder,  a  very  fine  actor.  They  received  an  enthusi- 
astic welcome,  but  the  adherents  of  the  classic  school 


FOREIGN  CRITICISM  OF  SHAKESPEARE    213 

insisted  that  their  beauties  were  more  than  balanced 
by  their  irregularities  and  that  their  popularity  '  put 
back  the  German  stage  more  than  ten  years.'  The 
younger  men,  on  the  contrary,  the  first  representatives 
of  the  rising  romantic  school,  went  to  the  other  ex- 
treme, and  hailed  Shakespeare  as  an  '  impetuous  genius 
blindly  following  the  creative  caprice  of  his  own  imag- 
ination,' whose  extravagancies  were  as  admirable  as 
his  genuine  and  characteristic  beauties.  '  Imitation  of 
nature  and,  moreover,  of  stark-naked  nature  as  God 
made  it '  was  considered  '  the  highest  aim  of  art.'  This 
resulted  in  the  '  Sturm  und  Drang '  period,  when  vigor 
and  violence  and  virility  were  idealized,  or,  rather,  pre- 
sented in  unmitigated  reality.  Even  the  great  and  self- 
possessed  Goethe  fell  under  this  influence,  and  Gbtz 
von  Berlichingen  (1773)  was  'the  first  cupful  from 
this  ocean  of  true  nature.'  Schiller  says  in  his  criticism 
of  his  own  play.  The  Rohhers^  'If  its  beauties  do  not 
show  that  the  author  was  captivated  by  Shakespeare, 
all  the  more  must  this  be  evident  from  its  extravagance.' 
Although  Goethe  came  later  to  reproduce  the  restraint 
and  calmness  of  the  classic  model,  it  is  certain  that  the 
'  first  blossoms  of  the  great  period  of  German  poetry 
were  fructified  by  Shakespeare's  genius.'  In  Wilhelm 
Meister  Goethe  says,  semi-autobiographically :  — 

I  do  not  remember  that  any  book  or  person  or  event  in 
my  life  ever  produced  so  great  an  effect  on  me  as  Shake- 
speare's plays.  They  seem  to  be  the  work  of  some  heavenly 
genius  who  came  down  to  men  to  make  himself  known  to 
them  in  as  gentle  a  manner  as  possible.  They  are  no  mere 
poems.  We  could  fancy  that  we  were  standing  before  the  gi- 
gantic books  of  Fate,  through  which  the  hurricane  of  life  was 
raging  and  violently  blowing  its  leaves  to  and  fro.  I  am  so 
astounded  by  their  strength  and  their  tenderness,  by  their 
power  and  their  peace,  and  my  mind  is  so  excited,  that  I 


214        SHAKESPEARE   AND   HIS   CRITICS 

long  for  the  time  when  I  shall  again  feel  myself  in  a  fit  state 
to  read  further. 

Schiller,  too,  testifies  no  less  warmly  to  his  admira- 
tion of  the  plays,  though  in  his  adaptation  of  Macbeth 
he  takes  unwarrantable  liberties  with  the  original. 
Both  Schiller  and  Goethe  were  aroused  and  inspired 
by  the  English  poet,  though  both  were  too  great  as 
artists  to  be  imitators  in  any  sense. 

Augustus  William  Schlegel  published  between  1797 
and  1810  his  translation  of  seventeen  of  Shakespeare's 
plays,  and  this  was  completed  later  by  Tieck.  This  is 
an  admirable  work,  for  verse  is  rendered  by  verse  and 
prose  by  prose.  Shakespeare  uses  verse,  and  either 
rhetorical  or  conversational  prose,  according  to  the 
speaker  and  the  occasion,  and  it  is  evidently  impossi- 
ble to  reproduce  the  effect  of  a  play  even  in  a  weakened 
form  unless  the  distinction  is  observed.  With  the  cor- 
rection of  some  minor  verbal  errors,  Schlegel's  trans- 
lation is  satisfactory  to-day.  It  has  lately  been  revised 
by  the  German  Shakespeare  Society,  although  numer- 
ous others  of  varying  degrees  of  merit  were  published 
in  the  nineteenth  century. 

Schlegel  was  a  romanticist,  and  in  fact  is  regarded 
in  connection  with  his  brother  Frederick  as  the  founder 
of  the  romantic  school  in  Germany.  The  influence  of 
his  Lectures  on  Dramatic  Literature  (1808)  on  the 
English  romanticists  has  been  already  alluded  to. 
Little  more  than  one  hundred  pages  are  directly  con- 
cerned with  Shakespeare,  but  the  work  is  the  first 
connected  commentary  on  the  plays  in  the  language.  It 
exhibits  the  fault  of  the  romanticist  in  giving  general 
impressions  in  impassioned  language,  and  not  analyzing 
or  establishing  statements  by  quotations.  It  is  true, 
these  general  propositions  commend  themselves  to  us 
except  when  he  says  that  the  three  parts  of  Henry  VI 


FOREIGN  CRITICISM   OF  SHAKESPEARE     215 

and  Richard  III '  were  undoubtedly  composed  in  suc- 
cession, as  is  proved  by  the  style  and  the  spirit  in  the 
handling  of  the  subject.'  Confidence  in  his  critical 
faculty  receives  a  severe  shock  when  we  read  of 
Thomas  Lord  Cromwell^  Sir  John  Oldcastle  (First 
Part),  and  A  Yorkshire  Tragedy:  'These  three 
pieces  are  not  only  unquestionably  Shakespeare's,  but 
in  my  opinion  they  deserve  to  be  classed  among  his  best 
and  maturest  works.'  He  falls  into  another  but  less 
serious  error  in  writing  of  Othello :  — 

What  a  fortunate  mistake  that  the  Moor  (under  which 
name  in  the  original  novel  a  baptized  Saracen  of  the  north- 
ern coast  of  Africa  was  unquestionably  meant)  has  been  made 
by  Shakespeare  in  every  respect  a  negro :  we  recognize  in 
Othello  the  wild  nature  of  that  glowing  zone,  which  gener- 
ates the  most  ravenous  beasts  of  prey  and  the  most  deadly 
poisons,  tamed  only  in  appearance  by  foreign  laws  of  honor 
and  by  nobler  and  milder  manners.  His  jealousy  is  not  the 
jealousy  of  the  heart  which  is  compatible  with  the  tenderest 
feeHngs  and  adoration  of  the  beloved  object;  it  is  of  that 
sensual  kind  which  in  burning  climes  has  given  birth  to  the 
disgraceful  confinement  of  women  and  many  other  unnatural 


To  us  who  know  the  docile,  childlike  nature  of  the 
negro  and  his  indifference  to  female  exclusiveness,  the 
above  seems  absurd.  It  is  the  Arab,  not  the  Ethiopian, 
who  instituted  the  '  disgraceful  confinement  of  women.' 
But  Othello  is  in  essentials  an  Elizabethan  gentle- 
man, of  a  *  free  and  noble  nature,'  driven  to  despera- 
tion by  agony  of  soul  from  the  conviction  that  the  wife 
he  loves  has  proved  unfaithful.  Again,  it  is  India 
rather  than  Africa  which  *  generates  the  most  ravenous 
beasts  of  prey  and  the  most  deadly  poisons.'  But,  apart 
from  the  above  errors,  Schlegel  shows  a  broad  and 
generous  comprehension  of  Shakespearean  art.  A  gen- 


216        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS   CRITICS 

uine  romanticist,  he  sets  aside  with  scorn  the  rule  for 
unity  of  time :  — 

The  intriguer  is  ever  expeditious,  and  loses  no  time  in  at- 
taining to  his  object.  But  the  mighty  course  of  human  desti- 
nies proceeds,  like  the  change  of  seasons,  with  measured 
pace  ;  great  designs  ripen  slowly ;  stealthily  and  hesitatingly 
the  dark  suggestions  of  deadly  malice  quit  the  abysses  of  the 
mind  for  the  light  of  day  ;  and,  as  Horace  observes,  with 
equal  truth  and  beauty,  '  the  flying  criminal  is  only  limpingly 
followed  by  penal  retribution.'  ^  Let  only  the  attempt  be 
made,  for  instance,  to  bring  within  the  narrow  frame  of  the 
Unity  of  Time  Shakespeare's  gigantic  picture  of  Macbeth's 
Murder  of  Duncan,  his  tyrannical  usurpation  and  final  fall ; 
let  as  many  as  may  be  of  the  events  which  the  great  dramatist 
successively  exhibits  before  us  in  such  dread  array  be  placed 
anterior  to  the  opening  of  the  piece,  and  made  the  subject  of 
an  after  recital,  and  it  will  be  seen  how  thereby  the  story 
loses  all  its  sublime  significance.  This  drama  does,  it  is  true, 
embrace  a  considerable  period  of  time :  but  does  its  rapid 
progress  leave  us  leisure  to  calculate  this  ?  We  see  as  it  were 
the  Fates  weaving  their  dark  web  on  the  whirling  loom  of 
time,  and  we  are  drawn  irresistibly  on  by  the  storm  and 
whirlwind  of  events,  which  hurries  on  the  hero  to  the  first 
atrocious  deed,  and,  from  it  to  innumerable  crimes  to  secure 
its  fruits,  with  fluctuating  fortunes  and  perils,  to  his  final  fall 
on  the  field  of  battle. 

He,  too,  attacks  Voltaire  with  energy,  and  is  justly 
severe  on  his  treatment  of  the  mysterious  —  a  theme 
especially  dear  to  romanticists  —  in  Semiramls.  He 
holds  emphatically  that  Shakespeare  is  '  a  profound 
artist  and  not  a  blind  and  wildly  extravagant  genius,* 
and  considers  the  opposite  opinion  ^a  mere  fable,  a 

*  Not  an  entirely  accurate  translation  of 

Raro  antecedentem  scelestum 
Deseruit  pede  poena  claudo. 

But  the  error  may  be  between  the  German  and  the  English. 


FOREIGN  CRITICISM  OF  SHAKESPEARE    217 

blind  and  extravagant  error.'  He  notes  the  power  of 
giving  life  to  stage  characters,  declaring  that  the  poet 
*  possesses  a  capability  of  transporting  himself  so  com- 
pletely into  every  situation,  even  the  most  unusual,  that 
he  is  enabled  as  plenipotentiary  of  the  whole  human 
race^  without  particular  instructions  for  each  separate 
case,  to  act  and  speak  in  the  name  of  every  individual.' 

The  inconceivable  element  herein,  and  what,  moreover,  can 
never  be  learned,  is  that  the  characters  appear  neither  to  do 
or  say  anything  on  the  spectator's  account  merely ;  and  yet 
that  the  poet,  simply  by  means  of  the  exhibition,  and  with- 
out any  subsidiary  explanation,  communicated  to  the  audience 
the  gift  of  looking  into  the  inmost  recesses  of  their  minds. 
Hence  Goethe  has  ingeniously  compared  Shakespeare's  char- 
acters to  watches  with  crystalline  plates  and  cases,  which, 
while  they  point  out  the  hours  as  correctly  as  other  watches, 
enable  us  at  the  same  time  to  perceive  the  inward  springs  by 
which  all  this  is  accomplished. 

The  power  of  drawing  character  is  as  mysterious  as 
character  itself,  and  it  is  hardly  possible  to  '  look  into 
the  inmost  recesses  of  the  minds '  of  the  great  Shake- 
spearean characters  —  we  only  know  that  the '  recesses ' 
are  there.  The  romanticists  are  fond  of  ingenious  and 
striking  imagery.  The  '  roaring  loom  of  time,'  or  '  the 
book  of  fate,  its  leaves  violently  stirred  by  the  wind  of 
life,'  is  frequently  brought  forward.  Sometimes  these 
figures  are  of  extreme  beauty,  and  the  greatness  of 
Coleridge  is  evinced  by  the  fact  that  with  him  and,  in 
a  less  degree,  with  Hazlitt,  they  are  always  apposite. , 
Sometimes,  as  in  the  above  from  Goethe,  they  are  beau- 
tiful but  do  not  illustrate  the  subject,  for  Shakespeare's 
great  characters  are  by  no  means  in  transparent  cases. 
Hamlet  and  lago  and  Macbeth  are  mysterious  even  to 
themselves,  because  they  are  original  centres  of  force 


218        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

and  not  merely  motive-driven  machines.  Schlegel  seems 
to  recognize  this  indirectly  in  several  passages.  His 
defense  of  the  mixture  of  the  tragic  and  the  comic,  and 
the  relation  of  each  to  the  other  as  elements  of  dramatic 
art,  is  more  philosophical  than  that  which  defends  the 
combination  merely  because  it  is  not  uncommon  in  real 
life.  It  is  at  once  the  strength  and  the  weakness  of  the 
German  commentators  that  they  instinctively  base  their 
criticism  on  some  form  of  the  peculiarly  German  science 
of  aesthetics.  They  sometimes  gain  thereby  systematic 
form  at  the  expense  of  a  firm  hold  of  reality. 

Goethe,  in  his  criticism  of  Hamlet  in  Wilhelm  Meister, 
which  contains  the  beautiful  simile  of  the  oak  tree 
planted  in  a  porcelain  vase,  had  said  that  Hamlet  was 
a  'lovely,  pure,  and  most  moral  nature,  without  the 
strength  of  nerve  which  forms  a  hero,  sinking  beneath 
a  burden  (of  duty)  which  it  cannot  bear  and  must  not 
cast  away '  —  in  other  words,  a  sentimentalist,  a  weak- 
ling. Schlegel  says :  — 

With  respect  to  Hamlet's  character ;  I  cannot,  as  I  under- 
stand the  poet's  views,  pronounce  altogether  so  favorable  a 
sentence  upon  it  as  Goethe  does.  He  is,  it  is  true,  of  a  highly 
cultivated  mind,  a  prince  of  royal  manners,  endowed  with  the 
finest  sense  of  propriety,  susceptible  of  noble  ambition,  and 
open  in  the  highest  degree  to  an  enthusiastic  admiration  of 
excellence  in  others  of  which  he  himself  is  deficient.  .  .  .  He 
is  not  solely  impelled  by  necessity  to  artifice  and  dissimu- 
lation, he  has  a  natural  inclination  for  crooked  ways  ;  he  is 
a  hypocrite  towards  himself,  his  far-fetched  scruples  are  often 
mere  pretexts  to  cover  his  want  of  determination.  .  .  .  Ham- 
let has  no  firm  belief  either  in  himself  or  in  anything  else ; 
from  expressions  of  religious  confidence  he  passes  over  to 
sceptical  doubts.  .  .  .  It  is  a  tragedy  of  thought ;  the  whole 
is  intended  to  show  that  a  calculating  consideration,  which 
exhausts  all  the  relations  and  possible  consequences  of  a  deed, 
must  cripple  the  power  of  acting. 


FOREIGN  CRITICISM  OF  SHAKESPEARE    219 

These  views,  or  modifications  of  them,  one  gathers 
from  reading  the  play  as  a  whole,  for  they  are  the 
general  impressions  left  on  the  mind.  Hamlet  does  not 
act,  therefore  he  is  irresolute.  Since  the  publication  of 
Professor  Bradley's  Shahespearean  Tragedy^  they  have 
merely  an  historical  interest,  for  there  the  character  is 
analyzed  and  referred  to  well-known  though  subtle  ele- 
ments of  human  nature,  and  the  propositions  are  estab- 
lished by  quotations  from  the  play  itself.  In  other  words, 
Bradley's  criticism  is  not  merely  an  appreciation,  it  is 
also  a  scientific  argument. 

Schlegel  seems  to  rank  Macbeth  as  the  greatest  of  the 
tragedies,  in  which  opinion  he  is  not  alone.  His  dis- 
course on  Caliban  is  admirable,  and  his  animadversions 
on  Dr.  Johnson  will  command  general  assent. 

The  German  criticism  on  Shakespeare  with  which 
Americans  are  most  familiar  is  Dr.  Hermann  Ulrici's 
Shakespeare^ s  Dramatic  Art,  published  first  in  1846, 
and  the  third  and  revised  edition  in  1876,  and  Dr. 
George  Gervinus's  extensive  Commentary.  Both  of 
these  are  accessible  in  excellent  translations,  and  are  to 
be  found  in  all  public  libraries.  Dr.  Ulrici  gives  a  com- 
pendious historic  outline  of  the  life  and  times  of  the 
dramatist  and  of  his  predecessors  and  contemporaries, 
a  careful  review  of  the  plays,  and  an  examination  of  the 
evidence  as  to  the  order  in  which  they  were  written  as 
far  as  it  was  then  known.  His  work  is  therefore  at  once 
historic  and  aesthetic  criticism.  In  the  latter  he  seeks 
for  what  the  Germans,  following  Hegel,  call  the  '  central 
idea'  of  the  play,  an  abstraction  which  the  critic  some- 
times* finds  in  the  work  of  art  and  assumes  to  be  the 
conscious  aim  of  the  artist.  As  far  as  it  refers  to  organic 
life,  to  harmony  of  parts,  and  to  unity  of  the  total  im- 
pression, the  phrase  '  central  idea '  represents  a  sound 


220        SHAKESPEARE  AND   HIS   CRITICS 

critical  conception,  as  it  usually  does  with  Ulrici.  Bat 
when  we  read  that  the  central  idea  of  Othello  is  the 
danger  of  marriage  between  persons  of  different  races, 
or  of  Romeo  and  Juliet^  the  inadvisability  of  love  not 
sanctioned  by  parental  authority,  we  feel  that  a  sub- 
jective impression  is  usurping  the  authority  of  general 
truth.  Dr.  Ulrici  is  far  too  able  a  critic  to  fall  into  such 
extreme  subjection  to  theory  ;  but  we  object  to  his  con- 
tinual use  of  the  word  '  intention '  applied  to  the  motive 
.^.  of  the  dramatist  in  writing  the  play  or  in  introducing 
X  certain  features.  Thus,  we  read  of  the  union  of  the  Lear 
N^      and  Gloster  stories :  — 

The  Poet  wishes  to  show  us  that  the  moral  corruption  is 
not  only  a  single  case,  but  that  it  has  affected  the  noblest 
families,  the  representatives  of  all  the  others. 

The  development  of  the  leading  thought,  the  fundamental 
conception  upon  which  the  inner  organic  unity  of  the  drama 
[Zear]  is  based,  is  all  the  more  clear  and  perfect.  .  .  .  The 
poet  wishes  to  give  us  a  vivid  picture  of  how  the  domestic 
circle  —  the  chief  and  firmest  bond  of  human  society,  mo- 
rality, and  happiness  —  snaps  asunder  and  becomes  a  suc- 
cession of  misfortunes  and  miseries,  if  its  foundation,  purity 
of  heart  and  free,  unconditional  love,  is  eaten  away  and 
undermined  in  the  heads  of  the  family  themselves  by  tragic 
contradiction  in  its  inner  nature,  as  in  Lear,  or  by  frivolity 
and  weakness  of  character,  as  in  Gloster.  .  .  . 
^  The  tragedy  [_Macbeth^  is  evidently  intended  to  represent 
the  deep  fall  of  human  greatness  ...  it  is  intended  to  show 
us  how  Macbeth's  heroic  greatness  is  unavoidably  ruined  by 
want  of  moral  strength.  .  .  . 
/  The  purpose  of  the  piece  [^Hamlet"]  is  to  show  how  the 
self-made  thoughts,  hopes,  and  intentions  of  man  miss  their 
mark,  not  only  on  account  of  their  own  short-sightedness, 
but  that,  by  internal  necessity,  their  unfounded  suppositions 
are  thwarted  and  disturbed  by  the  equally  baseless  empire 
of  chance.  ,  ,  .  It  was  intended  that  the  spectator  should 


FOREIGN  CRITICISM  OF  SHAKESPEARE    221 

be  overwhelmed,  stupefied,  and  bewildered  by  it,  and  that  he 
should  himself  thus  become  directly  aware  of  similar  weak- 
nesses and  uncertainty  in  himself. 

Extracts  might  be  multiplied  on  this  point ;  and  if 
by  '  intention '  is  meant  conscious  purpose  on  the  au- 
thor's part  before  sitting  down  to  elaborate  a  play,  or 
even  in  the  course  of  the  writing,  the  fact  that  Shake- 
speare frequently  rewrote  a  play,  sometimes  height- 
ening the  ethical  tone  as  in  the  case  of  Hamlet^  would 
negative  the  theory  of  a  preconceived  moral  plan.  An 
artist  gets  his  material  from  a  myth  or  old  story,  or 
from  life  around  him.  The  form  grows  in  his  mind 
under  a  process  of  incubation,  and  consistency  requires 
that  there  be  a  central  idea  of  unity  to  which  the  tone 
conforms,  and  truth  requires  that  there  be  a  paral- 
lelism to  the  moral  law  if  the  play  is  to  have  any  sig- 
nificance and  reality.  In  Lovers  Labour 's  Lost  very 
likely  Shakespeare  intended  to  make  fun  of  the  intel- 
lectual requisites  of  his  day,  as  Dickens  intended  to 
satirize  a  certain  type  of  boys'  school  in  Nicholas 
Nicklehy  ;  and  there  may  be  works  of  a  higher  grade 
in  which  the  author  has  written  around  a  '  central 
idea '  consciously  kept  in  mind ;  but  no  didactic  im- 
pulse formed  the  great  tragedies.  They  are  morally 
instructive  simply  because  they  are  on  the  heroic,  ideal 
plane ;  they  build  up  in  us  a  counterpart  of  the  mood 
in  which  they  were  conceived.  The  word  'intention' 
is  applicable  to  creations  of  a  much  inferior  order. 
However,  it  may  be  that  Dr.  Ulrici  used  the  word  with 
reference  to  unconscious  intention,  the  deeper  sort,  — 
volition  which  governs  the  artist  in  giving  body  and 
form  to  a  general  conception,  and  this,  indeed,  is  his 
individual  personality,  his  genius. 

Dr.  Ulrici  ranks  the  historical  plays  very  highly, 
and  his  admiration  for  them  is  so  great  that  he  con- 


222        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS   CRITICS 

siders  the  three  parts  of  Henry  VI  as  belonging  to  an 
integral  whole  and  as  undoubtedly  Shakespearean  in 
conception.  In  this  modern  criticism,  less  enthusiastic 
and  more  scientific  than  his,  does  not  follow  him.  '  The 
eight  historical  plays,'  he  says,  '  which  embrace  one  of 
the  most  important  centuries  of  English  history,  when 
taken  collectively  form  such  a  full,  grand,  and  artistic 
picture  that  I  know  of  nothing  in  the  whole  domain 
of  dramatic  poetry  that  can  be  compared  to  it.'  With 
Hegel,  he  regards  history  as  a  great  process,  a  sublime 
procession  of  humanity  moving  under  hidden  but  com- 
prehensible forces  —  comprehensible  that  is  to  the  mind 
of  genius  —  to  a  definite  end.  The  nation  is  a  sacred 
organism,  having  a  conscience  and  a  moral  individu- 
ality. In  representing  history  on  the  artistic  plane, 
accuracy  in  depicting  events  is  irrational  compared  to 
faithfulness  in  presenting  'the  idea.'  He  accordingly 
defends  Shakespeare's  anachronisms  and  inaccuracies, 
not  because  he  followed  his  authorities,  but  because 
they  are  of  not  the  slightest  consequence  compared  to 
his  faithfulness  in  presenting  the  national  character 
and  harmonizing  the  elements  of  the  national  genius. 
In  this  it  is  difficult  not  to  agree  with  him,  nor  does 
the  flavor  of  mysticism,  so  abhorrent  to  the  twentieth 
century,  weaken  the  force  of  his  words  for  those  who, 
he  says,  '  have  any  appreciation  of  that  higher  beauty, 
which  alone  raises  art  above  the  low  apeing  of  com- 
mon reality.' 

He  says  of  Twelfth  Night :  '  It  is  not  merely  the 
experiencing  of  such  a  life,  the  very  beholding  it  pro- 
duces that  quality,  that  inward  contentment  at  which 
we  are  all  aiming,''  This  is  certainly  an  excellent  state- 
ment of  the  true  function  of  comic  art ;  it  should  pro- 
duce satisfaction  as  well  as  amusement.  There  is  critical 
acumen  in  his  remark  that  Richard  Ill's  conduct '  pro- 


FOREIGN  CRITICISM  OF  SHAKESPEARE    223 

ceeds  not  only  from  his  demoniacal  desire  to  give  forc- 
ible evidence  of  his  power  over  mankind,  it  proceeds 
likewise  from  the  demoniacal  pleasure  he  finds  in  prov- 
ing it.' 

Of  Shakespeare's  verse  he  says  admirably :  — 

His  language  has  a  peculiar  internal  restlessness,  as  if  a 
sappy,  over-ripe  life  were  palpitating  in  it,  as  if  it  were 
swelling  with  hidden  springs,  seeking  at  every  moment  to 
burst  their  bounds  ;  it  is  only  on  rare  occasions  —  but  still  too 
frequently  —  that  this  surging  and  swelling  degenerates  into 
a  bombastic,  high-flown,  and  inflated  style.  This  throbbing  is 
in  fact  not  the  soft  round  undulating  line  of  beauty ;  the 
rhythm  of  the  Shakesperean  diction  resembles  the  short, 
pointed  breakers  of  the  sea  on  precipitous  coasts,  when  the 
inroUing  wave  meets  the  one  rebounding  from  the  shore. 
Hence  it  never  falls  into  effeminateness  and  sentimentality, 
its  expression  of  tenderness  and  grace  has  something  piquant 
...  it  is  invariably  in  the  highest  degree  animated,  preg- 
nant, and  appropriate  .  .  .  for  it  receives  its  substance  from 
a  productive  imagination  which  works  in  it,  and  which  not 
only  names  and  describes  the  object  but  also  provides  it  with 
life  and  animation. 

His  chapter  on  '  Shakespeare's  Modes  of  Character- 
ization '  is  an  excellent  piece  of  philosophical  criticism, 
showing  some  traces  of  the  influence  of  Coleridge,  and 
as  valuable  now  as  it  was  when  first  written. 

Dr.  Gervinus  is  inferior  to  Dr.  Ulrici  because  he  lacks 
enthusiasm  and  insight.  In  his  ponderous  commentary 
he  shows  great  industry  in  bringing  together  all  that 
was  known  at  the  time  of  the  plays  on  the  historical 
side,  and  his  commentary  —  largely  a  restatement  of 
the  plots  —  is  readable,  though  not  illuminating.  His 
analyses  of  the  characters  are  commonplace,  and  no 
one  need  fear  finding  sentences  not  easily  comprehens- 


224        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

ible.  He  follows  the  current  views,  or  steers  a  deco- 
rous middle  course  between  them.  He  is  one  of  those 
painstaking  persons  whose  usefulness  lies  in  want  of 
originality.  In  consequence  he  does  not  represent  so 
much  in  the  development  of  Shakespearean  criticism  as 
Coleridge,  Schlegel,  or  Ulrici,  not  to  speak  of  lesser 
men.  His  lack  of  appreciation  of  humor  leads  him  into 
a  singular  error  in  speaking  of  Hotspur :  — 

In  repose  and  left  to  himself  he  is  pliable  and  yielding 
like  a  lamb  in  his  true  unsuspicious  nature.  In  private  with 
Glendower  he  allows  him  for  nine  hours  to  entertain  him 
with  the  devils^  names,  although  it  disgusts  him. 

This  is  based  on  Hotspur's  petulant  exaggeration :  — 

I  tell  you  what : 
He  held  me  last  night  —  at  least  nine  hours 
In  reckoning  up  the  several  devils'  names 
That  were  his  lackeys  :  I  cried  '  hum '  and  *  well ;  go  to,* 
But  mark'd  him  not  a  word.  O,  he  is  as  tedious 
As  a  tired  horse,  a  railing  wife. 

Dr.  Gervinus  is  guilty  of  one  or  two  other  misappre- 
hensions of  the  kind,  which  though  not  serious  in 
themselves  betray  a  mind  to  which  much  of  Shake- 
speare must  remain  a  sealed  book.  Commenting  on  the 
Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona.,  he  writes  :  — 

The  plot  is  unravelled,  at  length,  by  a  romantic  meeting 
of  all,  in  a  conclusion  which  appears  to  all  critics  sudden, 
abrupt,  and  inartistic.  It  is  undeniable  that  here  the  form  of 
the  plot  is  carelessly  treated.  We  must,  however,  be  cautious 
not  to  criticise  rashly.  For  in  a  pathological  point  of  view 
the  catastrophe  has  been  attacked  just  where  it  is  most  to  be 
defended.  It  is,  namely,  essentially  brought  about  by  the 
offer  of  Valentine  to  sacrifice  his  beloved  one  to  his  faithless 
friend.  This,  Charles  Lamb  and  many  others  considered  as 
an  unjustifiable  act  of  heroic  friendship.  But  this  trait  essen- 


FOREIGN  CRITICISM  OF  SHAKESPEARE    225 

tially  belongs  to  Valentine's  character.  That  it  was  not 
unintentionally  introduced  may  also  be  traced  from  the  mere 
parallelism  observed  throughout  the  composition.  For  Julia 
also  is  exhibited  to  us  in  the  same  aspect  of  resignation  and 
self-renunciation  springing  from  pure  good-nature  which  in 
her  as  in  Valentine  stands  out  in  contrast  to  the  self-love  of 
Proteus. 

Even  if  we  admit  that  Valentine's  offer  to  give  up  his 
lady-love  to  his  false  friend  is  an  exaggerated  repre- 
sentation of  chivalric  friendship,  the  idea  that  '  paral- 
lelism '  requires  a  self-sacrificing  young  man  to  balance 
a  self-sacrificing  young  woman  will  hardly  be  accepted. 
If  it  were,  there  should  be  a  selfish,  false  young  woman 
to  balance  the  selfish,  false  young  man.  There  should 
be  two  waiting-maids  instead  of  one  only,  and  Speed 
should  have  a  dog,  or  at  least  a  cat,  to  offset  Launce's 
dog.  But  parallelism  is  dear  to  the  mechanical  critic. 
It  is  strange,  however,  that  none  of  the  critics,  though 
agreeing  that  the  last  scene  of  the  play  is  unnatural  — 
indeed  impossible  —  have  never  noticed  its  grave  dra- 
matic fault.  The  high-spirited,  aristocratic  Sylvia  is 
kept  on  the  stage  twenty  minutes  in  the  crisis  of  her 
life,  and  never  says  a  word  while  her  lover  discards  and 
resumes  her.  No  woman  would  be  content  with  by-play 
under  such  circumstances,  nor  would  the  great  drama- 
tist have  forced  her  to  keep  silent.  There  is  a  lack  of 
*  parallelism '  here  between  Sylvia's  quiescence  and  the 
natural  conduct  of  a  rejected  girl. 

In  1863  Gustav  Freytag,  the  celebrated  German 
novelist,  author  of  Soil  und  Hahen  (Debit  and  Credit), 
published  Technique  of  the  Drama.  Although  a  large 
part  of  his  illustrations  is  taken  from  the  Greek  and 
German  drama,  Shakespearean  criticism  has  from  that 
time  been  turned  more  or  less  to  the  important  question 


226        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS   CRITICS 

of  '  dramatic  construction.'  The  author  first  defines  the 
'Idea  of  the  Drama'  as  the  central  important  event  as 
it  takes  form  in  the  poet's  mind,  '  toward  which  inde- 
pendent inventions  are  directed  like  rays;'  He  illustrates 
this  by  relating  how  Schiller's  Kabale  und  Liehe  was 
suggested  by  a  short  notice  in  a  newspaper  of  the  suicide 
of  two  lovers.  This  was  the  germ  from  which  the  '  fancy 
of  the  poet,  aroused  by  sympathy,  fashioned  the  char- 
acter of  an  ardent  and  passionate  youth  and  of  an  inno- 
cent and  susceptible  maiden.'  It  is,  however,  from  the 
remodeling  and  developing  that  the  'occurrence  in  real 
life  becomes  a  dramatic  idea.'  The  idea  is  not  the  germ 
merely — otherwise  there  might  be  any  number  of  plays 
with  the  same  idea ;  it  is  the  germ  developing  in  the 
mind  of  the  writer,  it  is  the  germ  colored  by  the  personal 
imagination,  in  taking  form.  This  notion,  though  ab- 
stract, is  comprehensible,  and  affords  a  base  for  con- 
sidering the  analysis  of  a  serious  play  or  tragedy. 

Freytag  then  considers  the  '  dramatic  action '  and  the 
'  construction  of  the  drama.'  He  considers  that  a  tragedy 
is  normally  divided  into  five  parts :  First,  the  introduc- 
tion, in  which  the  characters  are  presented  and  their 
antecedents  and  surroundings  are  so  far  discussed  that 
we  may  without  difficulty  comprehend  the  succeeding 
action.  The  tone  is  given,  —  the  artistic  note  of  the 
whole,  as  in  Macbeth  and  Hamlet;  and  the  'rising 
force,'  or  the  impulses,  the  juxtaposition  of  characters, 
the  antecedent  or  existing  circumstances  which  are 
likely  to  lead  to  a  conflict,  is  indicated.  Thus  we  see 
early  in  the  first  act  that  Othello  is  frank  and  lago 
subtle  and  envious,  that  Macbeth  is  ambitious  and  fun- 
damentally unmoral,  and  are  prepared  for  the  conflict 
that  is  to  follow.  Secondly,  comes  the  '  rising  action,' 
when  the  rising  force  is  gathering  strength  and  the  hero 
is  apparently  successful,  or  at  least  the  rising  force  is 


FOREIGN   CRITICISM  OF  SHAKESPEARE    227 

effective.  Thirdly,  the  *  climax,*  when  the  rising  force  has 
gone  as  far  as  it  may.  Fourthly,  the  *  falling  action,'  when 
an  opposing  force  gathers  strength  and  combats  the 
force  (moral  or  social)  which  instituted  the  rising  action. 
Fifthly,  comes  the  '  catastrophe,'  involving  the  death  of 
the  hero  and  perhaps  of  several  minor  characters.  These 
final  divisions  correspond  roughly  to  the  five  acts,  and 
the  fact  that  they  are  the  articulations  of  a  tragic  action 
is  the  reason  for  the  division  of  a  tragedy  into  five  acts. 
Freytag's  illustration  of  the  movement  of  a  tragedy  by 
inclined  lines  meeting  in  an  angle  representing  the 
climax  is  so  well  known  as  hardly  to  be  worth  repro- 
ducing. 

C 


A/  \E 

A  represents  the  introduction  ;  B,  the  rising  action ;  C, 
the  climax,  which  introduces  the  counter  force ;  D,  the 
counter  or  falling  action ;  and  E,  the  catastrophe. 

Macbeth  is  a  good  illustration  of  the  scheme.  The  in- 
troduction gives  the  tone,  the  witches  and  the  blasted 
heath  suggest  wickedness  and  destructiveness.  All  the 
characters  are  introduced  and  their  relations  explained, 
and  the  impelling  force,  the  ambition  of  the  guilty  pair, 
is  brought  before  the  mind,  in  the  first  four  scenes.  Then 
comes  the  rising  action  with  slight  reactions,  —  in  Frey- 
tag's scheme  the  rising  and  falling  actions  are  regarded 
as  liable  to  interruptions  and  setbacks,  —  culminating 
in  the  murder  and  discovery  in  act  ii.  The  climax  is 
the  banquet  scene  in  the  centre  of  act  III,  when  Mac- 
beth and  his  wife  have  attained  the  royal  dignity.  The 


228        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

retributive  force  is  suggested.  It  is  remorse  in  Macbeth's 
mind  and  the  reaction  of  the  social  order  against  tyranny, 
suggested  in  the  last  scene  of  the  act.  In  the  fourth  act 
the  representatives  of  the  counter  force  organize  for 
active  resistance.  In  the  fifth  act  comes  the  final  con- 
flict and  the  catastrophe.  Here  everything  conforms  to 
Freytag's  scheme,  and  the  movements  of  the  action 
agree. very  nearly  with  the  divisions  into  acts.  But 
when  we  endeavor  to  apply  it  to  Hamlet  or  Othello  we 
at  once  meet  difficulties.  In  Macbeth  the  two  impelling 
forces  are  quite  evident,  —  personal  ambition  and  the 
instinct  of  society  towards  security  under  the  law ;  but 
what  are  they  in  Hamlet  f  The  answer  depends  on  the 
conception  we  form  of  a  character  not  entirely  compre- 
hensible. We  might  say  in  this  case  and  in  that  of 
Othello  that  the  forces  were  the  good  and  the  evil  in 
man,  but  such  a  conception  is  too  general  to  form  the 
groundwork  of  an  analysis  of  a  drama.  In  each  of  these 
plays  the  catastrophe  is  evident,  but  the  climax  is  less 
so.  Othello  is  at  the  height  of  happiness  when  he  lands 
in  Cyprus  early  in  the  second  act,  but  up  to  this  point 
all  is  introduction.  Hamlet,  representing  the  good,  the 
moral  force  in  man,  is  so  weakened  by  melancholy  as 
to  be  ineffective ;  the  triumph  of  the  bad  man  is  antece- 
dent to  the  play,  when  Claudius  is  elected  to  the  throne. 
The  climax  in  Hamlet  may  be  taken  to  be  the  play-scene 
when  the  prince  establishes  the  guilt  of  his  uncle,  at 
least  in  his  own  mind  and  that  of  Horatio.  But  it  is 
followed  by  no  reversal  of  the  action. 

Nevertheless  Freytag's  scheme  is  of  great  value,  even 
if  it  should  only  emphasize  the  fact  that  there  is  such  a 
thing  as  definite  construction  in  a  tragedy,  and  that 
dramatic  action  is  progressive  to  a  definite  end  under 
certain  very  general  laws.  It  is  not  invertebrate.  Per- 
haps if   we  modified  the  conception  that  a  tragedy 


FOREIGN  CRITICISM  OF  SHAKESPEARE    229 

IS  a  conflict  between  moral  forces  (originally  Hegel's 
idea),  and  took  the  ground  that  it  was  a  conflict  be- 
tween men,  —  representing,  if  you  wish  to  be  meta- 
physical, certain  moral  forces,  —  the  scheme  would  be 
applicable  to  all  of  Shakespeare's  tragedies.  Hamlet 
contends  with  the  King  with  varying  fortunes  ;  Othello 
with  lago ;  Macbeth  with  Malcolm ;  and  Lear  with  his 
daughters,  till  the  final  catastrophe.  All  of  these  are,  it 
is  true,  representative  characters.  But  it  is  because  they 
are  characters,  not  because  they  stand  for  good  or  evil, 
that  we  are  interested  in  them.  Lincoln  was  a  just  man 
and  slavery  was  unjust,  therefore  he  did  not  sympathize 
with  it ;  but  we  love  him  for  himself,  not  solely  because 
he  represented  a  moral  cause.  Shakespeare's  four  heroes 
are  very  interesting  men,  and  all  but  Macbeth  are^^ 
lovable.  They  are  engaged  in  a  conflict  with  external 
circumstances  and  with  other  men.  This  involves,  too, 
a  conflict  in  their  own  minds,  which  they  disclose  with 
wonderful  power  of  language,  revealing  thereby  the 
richness  and  depth  of  their  nature  and  their  affinity  to 
the  human  race.  We  therefore  become  much  interested 
in  their  conflict  with  other  men  ;  for  by  reason  of 
hereditary  instinct,  there  is  nothing  that  excites  men 
and  women  so  much  as  a  fight,  especially  a  serious  one. 
The  Romans  wanted  the  real  thing  in  the  arena ;  we 
are  forced  to  be  contented  with  a  mimetic  representa- 
tion. But  are  we  not  quite  warranted  in  calling  a  tragic 
plot  a  conflict  between  men  f 

Freytag  says,  as  an  explanation  of  the  pleasure  we 
take  in  witnessing  a  tragedy  :  — 

The  ultimate  ground  of  every  great  effect  of  the  drama  lies 
not  in  the  necessity  of  the  spectator  to  receive  impressions, 
but  in  his  never  ceasing  and  irresistible  desire  to  create  and 
fashion.  The  dramatist  compels  the  listener  to  repeat  his  cre- 
alions.  The  whole  world  of  characters,  of  sorrow,  and  of  des- 


230        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

tiny,  the  hearer  must  make  alive  in  himself.  While  he  is  re- 
ceiving with  a  high  degree  of  suspense,  he  is  in  most  powerful, 
most  rapid  creative  activity.  An  ardor  and  beautifying  cheer- 
fulness like  that  which  the  poet  himself  has  felt,  fills  the 
hearer,  who  repeats  the  poet's  efforts ;  therefore  the  pain  with 
the  feeling  of  pleasure ;  therefore  the  exaltation  which  outlasts 
the  conclusion  of  the  piece.  And  this  stimulation  of  the  cre- 
ative imagination  is  penetrated  with  still  a  milder  light ;  for 
closely  connected  with  it  is  an  exalting  sense  of  eternal  reason 
in  the  severest  fates  and  sorrows  of  men.  The  spectator  feels 
and  recognizes  that  the  divinity  which  guides  his  life,  even 
when  it  shatters  the  individual  human  being,  acts  in  a  benevo- 
lent fellowship  with  the  human  race ;  and  he  feels  himself 
creatively  exalted  as  united  with  and  in  accord  with  the  great 
world-guiding  power. 

Any  one  who  feels  a  sympathetic  creative  thrill  on 
witnessing  the  production  of  a  great  tragedy  must  be, 
like  Herr  Freytag  himself,  more  or  less  of  an  artist. 
But  we  doubt  if  even  he  could  feel  any  creative  exalta- 
tion of  spirit  on  witnessing  Ghosts  or  the  Master 
Builder  or  the  Philanderers,  much  as  he  might  have 
admired  the  technical  skill  of  all.  In  fact,  after  reading 
or  witnessing  one  of  Shaw's  or  Ibsen's  dramas,  instead 
of  feeling  any  '  ardor  and  beautifying  cheerfulness,'  we 
feel  ashamed  of  the  human  race,  —  it  is  built  on  so 
small  a  pattern  and  furnished  with  so  slight  internal 
strength  of  resistance.  The  world  seems  essentially  futile 
and  hopeless  and  ridiculous.  The  *  divinity  which  guides 
our  lives '  is  not  '  acting  in  benevolent  fellowship  with 
the  human  race ' ;  it  is  withdrawn  in  profound  indiffer- 
ence. There  does  come  a  feeling  of  exaltation  to  the 
plainest  spectator  after  seeing  one  of  the  great  trage- 
dies. He  is  proud  to  feel  that  he  is  cousin  to  Hamlet  or 
Othello,  to  know  that  our  human  nature  can  produce 
such  noble  souls,  amorous  of  the  good.  Even  the  gigan- 


FOREIGN  CRITICISM  OF  SHAKESPEARE    231 

tic  vigor  of  Macbeth  is  refreshing  to  one  who  has  dwelt 
long  with  the  petty  figures  of  the  modern  stage,  for 
he,  too,  *  greatly  lived.'  Herr  Freytag  died  before  the 
apotheosis  of  the  common  and  the  unclean,  and  was 
recalling  the  feelings  with  which  he  first  witnessed  the 
plays  of  Lessing  and  Shakespeare  and  Schiller  and 
Goethe. 

Freytag's  scheme  is  carried  out  with  great  minute- 
ness and  numberless  subdivisions.  He  applies  to  acts 
and  even  to  important  scenes  his  ideas  of  the  introduc- 
tion, the  rising  action,  the  climax,  the  falling  action, 
and  the  catastrophe.  If  he  sometimes  seems  fanciful, 
he  never  fails  to  enforce  the  idea  that  dramatic  con- 
struction is  a  technical  art  subject  to  principles,  entirely 
different  from  those  of  narration  or  lyric  abandon.  His 
book  was  not  translated  into  English  till  1898,  but  his 
view-point  was  taken  here  and  there  by  English  critics 
much  earlier.  A  very  admirable  little  book,  The  Drama 
and  its  Technique^  by  Dr.  Elizabeth  Woodbridge,  in 
the  same  year,  follows  Freytag's  method  in  the  main, 
avoiding  much  of  his  fancif ulness  and  diffuseness,  and 
adding  an  element  of  common  sense  and  definite  point 
that  makes  it  more  satisfactory  than  the  German  treat- 
ise. It  adds,  too,  a  discussion  of  that  very  difficult  sub- 
ject, the  art  of  comedy,  and  contains  many  admirable 
suggestions  for  practical  criticism  of  dramatic  art  as  far 
as  it  may  be  distinguished  from  dramatic  substance. 
But  it  must  be  remembered  that  technical  construction 
is  only  the  framework  into  which  the  dramatic  elements 
of  characterization,  wit,  dialogue,  and  poetry  are  to  be 
fitted,  and  that  it  is  quite  possible  to  overestimate  its 
relative  importance.  The  well-articulated  scheme  must 
contain  something  of  a  higher  value  than  itself,  and  of 
a  less  mechanical  nature. 

The   subject   of   Dramatic   Construction   has   been 


232        SHAKESPEARE  AND   HIS   CRITICS 

treated  later  by  Mr.  Richard  G.  Moulton  in  an  inter- 
esting but  quite  unconvincing  book  There  is  a  method 
of  pseudo-criticism  which  assumes  that  because  science 
classifies  ants  and  spiders  under  many  technical  tribe- 
names,  literary  products  can  be  profitably  treated  in  the 
same  general  manner.  Thus  Mr.  Moulton  makes  mi- 
nute and  fanciful  divisions  and  subdivisions  of  the  plays, 
even  of  the  scenes,  and  invents  a  corresponding  termin- 
ology :  *  Nemesis  Action,' '  Oracular  Action,' '  Problem 
Action,'  'Enveloping  Action,'  and  the  like.  If  these 
terms  correspond  to  any  real  differences,  they  do  not 
mark  the  qualities  which  give  life  and  distinction  to  a 
drama.  The  qualities  of  form  which  the  Merchant 
of  Venice  has  in  common  with  Midsummer  NigMs 
Dream^  if  treated  in  the  '  inductive  method,'  are  of  little 
more  importance  from  the  standpoint  of  literary  criti- 
cism than  the  shape  of  the  type  or  the  material  of  the 
paper.  The  fact  that  a  romantic  drama  is  not  the  proper 
subject  of  this  kind  of  scientific  analysis  is  the  essence  of 
its  excellence.  To  science  thus  interpreted,  a  play  is  a 
play  regardless  of  its  quality,  and  Mr.  Moulton's  critique 
of  the  Merchant  of  Venice  might  be  applied  with  equal 
force  to  one  of  the  crude  and  childish  comedies  of 
Dekker.  As  far  as  the  methods  of  science  imply  sin- 
cerity, industry,  and  common  sense  combined  with  imag- 
inative realization  of  the  nature  of  the  subject-matter, 
they  are  applicable  to  the  analysis  of  literary  products. 
In  this  sense  they  govern  the  analysis  of  the  leading 
modern  critics,  Bradley,  Lee,  and  Lounsbury,  and  the 
result  is  a  substantial  refinement  of  appreciation.  But 
to  take  the  form  and  not  the  real  method  of  science,  and 
simply  build  an  elaborate  structure  of  classifications 
with  groups  and  sub-groups,  gives  a  suspicious  appear- 
ance of  thoroughness  without  touching  the  necessary 
question  of  the  play  or  illuminating  with  the  faintest 


FOREIGN  CRITICISM  OF  SHAKESPEARE    233 

spark  its  essential  nature.  In  reality  it  is  as  unfruitful 
and  arbitrary  as  the  old  notion  that  construction  must 
observe  the  three  unities,  and  is  based  on  the  same  mis- 
taken point  of  view,  though  appealing  to  a  more  modern 
authority. 

The  best  consideration  of  the  important  question  of 
dramatic  construction  is  to  be  found  in  the  second  chap- 
ter of  Dr.  Bradley's  book  on  the  four  tragedies.  He 
considers  each  separately,  and  does  not  hesitate  to  point 
out  faults  of  construction,  and  how,  in  some  instances, 
the  faults  are  more  than  compensated  for  by  special 
excellences  which  the  very  faults  make  possible.  It  is 
greatly  to  be  desired  that  he,  or  some  one  of  equal  philo- 
sophical grasp  and  power  of  expression,  analyze  the  con- 
struction of  the  comedies,  taking  up  each  one  separately, 
showing  how  an  effect  is  created  by  the  succession  and 
variety  of  the  scenes,  how  laughter  and  amusement  are 
blended,  and  quiet  suggestions  of  pathos  heighten  the 
effect  of  both ;  how  far  in  the  unrolling  of  the  story  the 
author  relied  on  the  fact  that  his  audience  were  familiar 
with  its  general  outlines  —  in  a  word,  how  the  total 
effect  is  produced  by  harmonious  but  sometimes  appar- 
ently discordant  parts.  He  would  not  hesitate  to  point 
out  that  Shakespeare,  though  sometimes  showing  great 
skiU  in  construction,  frequently  depends  more  on  wit, 
poetry,  and  character  interest  to  hold  his  audience  than 
on  plot  interest ;  and  that  occasionally  the  latter  part 
of  his  plot  forgets  the  beginning.  He  would  explain,  if 
it  be  explainable,  how  he  mingles  the  elements  and  pro- 
duces a  total  effect  which  has  the  charm  of  one  of  na- 
ture's best  days.  That  would  be  the  result  of  the  true 
scientific  method. 

Shakespeare  has  become  almost  as  important  in  Ger- 
man as  in  English  literature.  Some  twelve  translations 
have  been  made,  the  most  important  being  the  revision 


^34        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

of  Schlegel  by  the  German  Shakespeare  Society,  be- 
gun on  the  three  hundredth  anniversary  of  the  poet's 
birth.  The  yearly  publications  of  this  society  are  of  the 
greatest  value.  The  independent  works  connected  with 
the  subject  form  a  large  library.  The  edition  of  Delius — 
giving  the  English  text  and  German  notes  —  is  a  monu- 
ment of  painstaking  scholarship.  All  this  has  reacted 
on  English  criticism,  by  increasing  the  pride  English- 
men take  in  their  national  poet  and  by  presenting  them 
with  a  body  of  criticism  in  which  the  plays  are  treated 
on  the  principles  of  aesthetic  art  and  the  historical  milieu 
is  viewed  from  a  standpoint  different  from  that  taken 
by  a  native.  Among  some  of  the  lesser  German  critics 
there  has  been  from  time  to  time  a  disposition  to  assume 
that  their  nation  discovered  Shakespeare,  and  that,  as 
the  representatives  of  pure  Teutonism,  they  could  best 
comprehend  and  interpret  the  great  poet  of  the  race ; 
but,  as  is  usually  the  case,  the  leading  scholars  of  both 
nations  estimate  the  labors  of  all  at  their  proper  value. 
A  true  conception  of  Shakespeare's  art  implies  a  width 
and  catholicity  of  mind  incompatible  with  petty  jealousy. 
Thus,  one  very  narrow-minded  but  broadly  arrogant 
person,  Professor  Lemcke,  says: — 

Let  us  for  once  lay  aside  our  proverbial  modesty,  and 
openly  declare  that  it  is  not  the  affinity  of  race,  nor  the  in- 
dications in  his  poetry  of  a  German  spirit,  which  have 
brought  us  so  close  to  Shakespeare,  but  it  is  that  God-given 
power  vouchsafed  to  us  Germans  before  all  other  nations,  by 
the  grace  of  which  we  are  enabled  to  recognize  true  genius, 
of  whatsoever  nation,  better  than  other  nations,  oftentimes 
better  than  its  own,  and  better  to  enjoy  and  to  appropriate 
its  gifts.  We  understand  and  love  Shakespeare  by  virtue  of 
that  same  German  insight  which  has  helped  the  Italians  to 
understand  their  Dante.  .  .  .  We  comprehend  and  love 
Shakespeare  because  we  are  undeniably  a  ^  Nation  of  Think- 


FOREIGN  CRITICISM  OF  SHAKESPEARE    235 

ers,*  as  other  nations  have  before  now  so  often  been  obliged 
with  ill-concealed  vexation  to  acknowledge.^ 

Schlegel,  as  a  nineteenth-century  romanticist,  shows 
less  respect  for  the  commentators  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury than  does  Ulrici,  but  he  bears  emphatic  testimony 
to  the  love  the  general  gender  bore  their  national  poet, 
for  he  writes :  — 

With  respect  to  the  criticisms  which  are  merely  of  a  philo- 
logical nature  I  am  frequently  compelled  to  differ  from  the 
commentators  (Steevens,  Malone,  Capell) ;  and  when  they 
consider  him  merely  a  poet,  endeavor  to  pronounce  upon  his 
views  and  to  enter  into  his  merits,  I  must  separate  myself 
from  them  entirely.  I  have  hardly  ever  found  either  truth  or 
profundity  in  their  observations  ;  and  these  critics  seem  to  me 
to  be  but  stammering  interpreters  of  the  general  and  almost 
idolatrous  admiration  of  his  countrymen. 

On  the  other  hand.  Professor  Mommsen,  whose  edi- 
tion of  Romeo  and  Juliet^  says  Dr.  Furness,  *  will  stand 
as  long  as  Shakespeare  is  studied,  a  monument  of  criti- 
cal sagacity,  patient  toil,  and  microscopic  investigation 
of  the  text,'  writes  in  the  spirit  of  scholarly  brother- 
hood :  — 

It  is  assuredly  a  valuable  work  to  epitomize  intelligently 
the  great  English  commentators  of  Shakespeare ;  here  and 
there  by  a  collation  of  the  old  copies  we  may  happily  settle 
some  doubtful  reading,  but  it  is  a  perilous  game  not  to  con- 
fess under  all  circumstances,  frankly  and  modestly,  that  we 
are  wholly  dependent  on  the  English  ;  verily  we  should  suffer 
wreck  if  with  the  one  hand  we  accept  from  them  all  the 
means  by  which  we  live  and  breathe,  and  with  the  other,  by 
way  of  thanks,  fling  scorn  and  contempt  upon  their  names. 

In  the  same  spirit  Ulrici  says :  — 

It  [the  translation,  some  1000  pages]  will  worthily,  as  far 

1  Furness's  Romeo  and  Juliet^  Preface,  p.  liv. 


236        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

as  form  is  concerned,  fulfil  its  object  in  being  a  small  contri- 
bution to  the  great  wealth  of  Shakespearean  literature  in  Eng- 
land. It  would  give  me  great  pleasure  and  satisfaction,  were 
I  to  find  that  the  substance  of  my  book  itself  met  with  the 
sympathy  and  approval  of  the  English  public,  more  especially 
of  English  Shakespearean  scholars,  for  whose  judgment  I 
entertain  the  highest  esteem  and  regard.  In  pure  profound 
veneration  for  the  great  poet,  I  venture  to  think  that  my  work 
is  not  inferior  to  that  of  any  English  writer  on  the  subject. 

In  view  of  such  modest  and  manly  words  from  the 
great  men,  the  irritation  of  some  English  and  American 
commentators  —  notably  Mr.  Richard  Grant  White 
and  Mr.  Swinburne — with  the  Germans,  seems  hardly 
worth  while. 

SHAKESPEAKE  IN  FRANCE 

The  genius  of  the  English  and  French  nations  is  so 
radically  different,  that  it  would  seem  unlikely  that 
French  critics  would  comprehend  Shakespearean  art. 
An  adequate  translation  of  the  plays,  one  which  should 
give  something  of  the  form  and  spirit  and  produce  an 
impression  somewhat  akin  to  that  of  the  original,  is 
obviously  impossible  in  French  except  as  applied  to  the 
dignified  passages  of  the  historical  plays.  But  the  intel- 
ligence of  Frenchmen  is  so  keen,  and  the  spirit  of 
French  literary  men  is  so  catholic,  that  they  are  able  to 
put  themselves  imaginatively  into  the  spiritual  mood 
of  other  races.  They  love  art  so  fundamentally  that  they 
can  recognize  it  in  the  most  alien  form.  Therefore,  in 
spite  of  their  Latin  dislike  of  the  unrestrained  and  the 
unconventional  in  expression,  and  of  the  fact  that  the 
masterpieces  of  their  dramatic  period  are  as  different 
from  the  Shakespearean  tragedies  as  can  well  be  imag- 
ined, and  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  their  master  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  Voltaire,  after  confessing  his  aston- 


FOREIGN  CRITICISM  OF  SHAKESPEARE    237 

ishment  and  wonder  at  the  effect  produced  on  him  by 
the  representation  of  the  plays  in  London,  went  after- 
wards to  the  extreme  of  ill-natured  ridicule,  and  in  spite 
of  the  linguistic  and  spiritual  gulf  that  separates  a 
French  classic  from  an  Elizabethan  masterpiece,  French 
critics  have  come  to  admire  Shakespeare  intelligently, 
though  their  admiration  is  still  tinctured  with  astonish- 
ment. 

The  changing  attitude  of  Voltaire,  in  whom  an  aston- 
ishingly petty  jealousy  was  combined  with  reverence 
for  conventional  rules  of  construction  and  an  underly- 
ing perception  of  Shakespeare's  literary  power,  is  fully 
set  forth  by  Professor  Lounsbury  in  the  second  volume 
of  Shakespearean  Wars^  a  book  which  is  profoundly 
interesting  not  merely  as  historj^,  but  as  a  study  of 
human  nature.  We  will  cite  only  Voltaire's  well-known 
criticism  on  Hamlet^  made  at  a  period  when  he  was 
especially  unreasonable: — 

Far  be  it  from  me  to  justify  everything  in  that  tragedy ; 
it  is  a  vulgar  and  barbarous  drama  which  would  not  be  toler- 
ated by  the  vilest  populace  of  France  or  Italy.  Hamlet  be- 
comes crazy  in  the  second  act,  and  his  mistress  becomes  crazy 
in  the  third ;  the  prince  slays  her  father  under  the  pretence 
of  killing  a  rat,  and  the  heroine  throws  herself  into  the  river ; 
a  grave  is  dug  on  the  stage,  and  the  gravediggei-s  talk  quodlib- 
ets  worthy  of  themselves,  while  holding  skulls  in  their  hands. 
Hamlet  responds  to  their  nasty  vulgarities  in  silliness  no  less 
disgusting.  In  the  mean  time  another  of  the  actors  conquers 
Poland.  Hamlet,  his  mother,  and  his  father-in-law  carouse  on 
the  stage  ;  songs  are  sung  at  table;  there  is  quarreling,  fight- 
ing, killing  —  one  would  imagine  this  to  be  the  work  of  a 
drunken  savage.  But  amidst  all  these  vulgar  irregularities, 
which  to  this  day  make  the  English  drama  so  absurd  and  so 
barbarous,  there  are  to  be  found  in  Hamlet^  by  a  bizarrerie 
still  greater,  some  sublime  passages  worthy  of  the  greatest 
genius.  It  seems  as  though  nature  had  mingled  in  the  brain 


238        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS   CRITICS 

of  Shakespeare  the  greatest  conceivable  strength  and  grand- 
eur with  whatsoever  witless  vulgarity  can  devise  that  is  low- 
est and  most  detestable. 

As  an  offset  to  this  we  will  quote  the  words  of  M. 
Anatole  France,  one  hundred  and  fifty  years  later.* 
They  atone  for  the  foolish  words  of  Voltaire,  indeed, 
leave  Shakespeare  in  debt  to  the  French  nation.  M. 
France  has  been  to  the  play  and  seen  Hamlet.  He  im- 
agines that  he  and  the  Danish  Prince  go  home  together, 
and  he  talks  to  the  figment  of  Shakespeare's  brain  as 
if  he  were  a  real  person.  He  says :  — 

First  he  must  apologize  to  Hamlet  for  the  audience,  some 
part  of  which,  as  he  may  have  noticed,  seemed  a  trifle  inat- 
tentive and  light.  Hamlet  must  not  lay  this  to  heart.  *  It  was 
an  audience  of  Frenchmen  and  Frenchwomen,'  he  should  un- 
derstand. '  You  were  not  in  evening  dress,  you  had  no  amor- 
ous intrigue  in  the  world  of  high  finance,  and  you  wore  no 
flower  in  your  buttonhole.  For  that  reason  the  ladies  coughed 
a  little  in  their  boxes  while  eating  iced  fruits.  Your  adven- 
tures could  not  interest  them.  They  were  not  worldly  adven- 
tures,  they  were  only  human  adventures.  Besides,  you  force 
people  to  think,  and  that  is  an  offense  which  will  never  be  par- 
doned to  you  here.' 

Still  there  were  a  few  among  the  spectators  who  were 
profoundly  moved,  a  few  by  whom  the  melancholy  Dane  is 
preferred  before  all  other  beings  ever  created  by  the  breath 
of  genius.  The  critic  himself  by  a  happy  chance  sat  near 
one  such,  M.  Auguste  Dorchain.  *  He  understands  you,  my 
prince,  as  he  understands  Racine,  because  he  is  a  poet.* 

And  then,  after  a  little,  he  concludes  by  confiding  to  Ham- 
let what  a  mystery  and  contradiction  the  world  has  found 
him,  though  he  is  the  universal  man,  the  man  of  all  times 
and  all  countries,  though  he  is  exactly  like  the  rest  of  us,  a 
man  living  in  the  midst  of  universal  evil.  It  is  just  because 
he  is  like  the  rest  of  us,  indeed,  that  we  find  his  character  a 

^  Quoted  by  Mr.  Bradford  Torrey  in  the  Atlantic,  March,  1906. 


FOREIGN   CRITICISM  OF  SHAKESPEARE    239 

thing  so  impossible  to  grasp.  It  is  because  we  do  not  under- 
stand ourselves  that  we  do  not  understand  him.  His  very  in- 
consistencies and  contradictions  are  the  sign  of  his  profound 
humanity.  *  You  are  prompt  and  slow,  audacious  and  timid, 
benevolent  and  cruel ;  you  believe  and  you  doubt ;  you  are 
wise,  and  above  everything  else  you  are  insane.  In  a  word, 
you  live.  Who  of  us  does  not  resemble  you  in  something  ? 
Who  of  us  thinks  without  contradiction  and  acts  without  in- 
consistency ?  Who  of  us  is  not  insane  ?  Who  of  us  but  says 
to  you  with  a  mixture  of  pity,  of  sympathy,  of  admiration, 
and  of  horror,  "Good-night,  sweet  prince,  and  flights  of 
angels  sing  thee  to  thy  rest."  * 

That  may  not  be  systematic  criticism,  but  it  is  a  very 
beautiful  and  adequate  appreciation.  French  literary 
criticism  has  a  sympathetic  quality,  so  that  in  the  hands 
of  the  brilliant  men,  like  Scherer,  Jusserand,  Taine,  or 
Sainte-Beuve,  it  becomes  literature  itself.  It  has  had 
a  great  influence  on  Englishmen,  and  has  developed 
greatly  since  the  eighteenth  century,  when  Boileau  was 
dictator.  The  criticism  of  Shakespeare  in  France  has 
been  of  less  importance  than  the  indirect  influence  of 
the  French  writers.  His  form  was  so  different  from  the 
accepted  dramatic  form  that  when  his  plays  were  trans- 
lated and  adapted  for  the  stage  they  were  mutilated. 
Victor  Hugo,  as  the  romantic  champion  of  the  nine- 
teenth century,  was  an  extravagant  admirer  of  the 
English  poet,  and  his  son  Francois  produced  an  excel- 
lent translation  of  the  plays.  At  present  no  foreigners 
understand  Shakespeare,  both  from  the  dramatic  and 
the  philosophic  side,  better  than  the  leading  French 
scholars,  and  their  influence  has  contributed  to  form 
the  tone  of  good  sense,  moderation,  and  reference  to 
human  nature  as  it  really  is  which  marks  the  writings 
of  the  latest  critics  in  England  and  America.  German 
idealism  and  French  artistic  comprehension,  the  one 


240         SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS   CRITICS 

fixing  its  attention  on  abstract  beauty  and  the  other  on 
the  beautiful  things,  have  combined  to  justify,  perhaps 
to  heighten,  our  admiration  of  Shakespeare. 

The  sparkling  chapter  in  Taine's  English  Literature 
on  Shakespeare  is  the  French  criticism  best  known  to 
English  readers.  Shakespeare,  he  says,  is  '  one  whom 
we  have  perceived  before  us  through  all  the  vistas  of 
the  Renaissance,  like  some  vast  oak  to  whom  all  forest 
ways  converge.'  '  No  writer,  not  even  Moliere,  has  pene- 
trated so  far  beneath  the  semblance  of  common  sense 
and  logic  in  which  the  human  machine  is  inclosed  in 
order  to  grasp  the  brute  powers  which  constitute  its 
substance  and  its  mainspring.'  But  the  Frenchman's 
predilection  for  form  governs  M.  Taine,  in  spite  of  his 
admiration  of  the  poetry.  Hamlet's  language  to  his 
mother  he  calls  '  the  style  of  phrensy  ' ;  we  should  say 
that  it  is  the  language  of  profound  emotion.  In 
Shakespeare,  he  declares, '  there  is  no  preparation,  no 
adaptation,  no  development,  no  care  to  make  himself 
understood.'  Shakespeare  flies,  we  creep.  '  A  poet,'  he 
insists,  *  does  not  copy  at  random  the  manners  which 
surround  him '  — 

If  he  is  a  logician,  an  actor  or  moralist  as  Racine,  he  will 
only  present  noble  manners,  he  will  avoid  low  characters ;  he 
will  have  a  horror  of  valets  and  plebs ;  he  will  observe  the 
greatest  decorum  in  respect  of  the  strongest  outbreaks  of  pas- 
sion ;  he  will  blot  out  precise  details,  special  traits,  and  will 
raise  tragedy  into  a  serene  and  sublime  region,  where  his  ab- 
stract personages,  after  an  exchange  of  eloquent  harangues 
and  noble  dissertations,  will  kill  each  other  becomingly  and  as 
though  they  were  merely  concluding  a  ceremony.  .  .  .  Shake- 
speare's master  faculty  is  an  impassioned  imagination,  freed 
from  the  fetters  of  reason  and  morality.  He  does  not  dream 
of  ennobling  but  of  copying  human  life. 

By  *  morality '  M.  Taine  evidently  means  propriety, 


FOREIGN  CRITICISM  OF  SHAKESPEARE    241 

that  which  is  the  mos^  or  custom.  He  can  make  nothing 
of  Hamlet  except  that  he  has  a  '  heated  imagination,* 
is  *  an  artist  whom  evil  chance  has  made  a  prince.* 
The  Shakespearean  drama,  he  says,  'reproduces  pro- 
miscuously ugliness,  basenesses,  horrors,  unclean  de- 
tails, profligate  and  ferocious  manners,  the  whole  reality 
of  life  just  as  it  is  when  it  is  unrestrained  by  decorum, 
common  sense,  and  duty.*  All  these  animadversions  on 
Shakespeare's  art  are,  however,  quite  compatible  in  the 
Frenchman's  mind  with  admiration  of  his  fecundity 
and  his  power,  nor  does  he  fail  to  do  justice  to  the  deli- 
cate beauty  of  some  of  his  creations,  like  the  fairies  in 
Midsummer NigM s  Dream^  the  woodland  scenes  of  ^s 
You  Like  It^  and  Prospero's  enchanted  island.  He  is 
at  once  broad  and  narrow,  and  a  trifle  bewildered  by 
his  own  enthusiasm,  and  is,  on  the  whole,  more  success- 
ful in  revealing  the  mind  and  method  of  a  brilliant 
Frenchman  than  in  criticising  an  English  poet. 


I 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  MIDDLE  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY 
MHS.  JAMESON  (1794-1860) 

The  romanticists  beginning  with  Coleridge  were  the 
first  to  appreciate  fully  the  delicate  psychical  qualities  of 
Shakespeare's  female  characters.  This  is  but  natural, 
for  the  Shakespearean  conception  of  love  as  something 
divine  and  unaccountable  and  yet  permanent  is  akin  to 
the  enthusiasm  of  the  romantic  spirit.  Mrs.  Jameson's 
Characteristics  of  Shakespeare^ s  Women  appeared  in 
1832,  and  her  views  are  therefore  not  novel.  But  the 
agreeable  style  in  which  it  was  written  gave  the  book 
considerable  influence  with  the  reading  public,  and  en- 
titles it  to  rank  high  among  theVmino'rl  documents  of 
criticism,  though  it  is  not  marked  ^by  subtle  discrimina- 
tions or  a  very  profound  knowledge  of  human  nature  or 
thorough  comprehension  of  dramatic  art.  The  classifica- 
tion of  the  heroines  into  *  Characters  of  Intellect,  Char- 
acters of  Passion  and  Imagination,  Characters  of  the 
Affections,  and  Historical  Characters,'  reminds  one  of 
the  eighteenth  century,  and  is  not  in  the  least  scientific, 
since  it  leaves  Cleopatra  out  of  the  list  of  the  characters 
of  passion  and  puts  her  with  the  Roman  matrons,  Octa- 
via  and  Volumnia,  among  the  historical  characters,  and 
separates  Rosalind  and  Viola  and  joins  Rosalind  and 
Isabella  as  '  characters  of  intellect.'  '  Portia,  Isabella, 
Beatrice,  and  Rosalind,'  she  declares,  '  may  be  classed 
together,  because  when  compared  with  the  others  they 
are  all  distinguished  by  mental  superiority.'  She  gives 
no  citations  in  support  of  this  view,  and  we  are  very  sure 
that  their  superiority  over  Viola,  Imogen,  and  Helena 


MIDDLE  OF  NINETEENTH  CENTURY       243 

in  intellectual  acuteness  or  activity  is  not  at  once  mani- 
fest. It  may  be  that  Portia,  Beatrice,  and  Rosalind 
excel  the  others  in  wit,  but  Isabella  certainly  does  not. 
In  putting  Portia  and  Isabella  in  the  same  class,  because 
both  are  eloquent,  though  in  very  different  ways,  Mrs. 
Jameson  confounds  two  entirely  different  types  of  women. 
Portia  is  in  love,  Isabella  is  not,  and,  as  far  as  we  can 
see,  is  incapable  of  a  generous  affection.  She  is  digni- 
fied, but  cold,  reserved,  and  self-centred.  Indeed,  there 
is  not  a  single  fine  character  in  Measure  for  Measure^ 
if  we  except  Escalus.  The  duke  is  a  crotchety,  unprac- 
tical person,  and  shirks  his  duties,  though  he  philoso- 
phizes admirably  on  death.  Isabella  talks  beautifully 
about  mercy,  but  with  none  of  the  natural  fervor  that 
inspires  Portia's  eloquence  on  the  same  subject.  Isabella 
is  a  very  disagreeable  person,  and  her  righteous  horror 
at  her  brother's  infamous  suggestion  is  tinged  with  no 
compassion  for  the  poor  wretch  sentenced  to  die.  She  is 
*  en  skied  and  sainted '  as  a  religious  devote^  not  as  a 
woman. 

Mrs.  Jameson  does  full  justice  to  Rosalind's  irresist- 
ible vivacity  and  pleasantry.  Rosalind  is  so  blithe  and 
so  full  of  the  life  of  youth  that  every  one  must  feel  her 
natural  charm.  But  the  merry,  high-spirited  girl  once 
discloses  the  depth  of  her  nature.  Dressed  as  a  boy,  she 
proposed  and  went  through  a  travesty  of  the  marriage 
ceremony  with  Orlando.  Scarcely  has  she  pronounced 
in  jest  the  solemn  words :  '  I  do  take  thee,  Orlando,  for 
my  husband,'  before  a  wave  of  seriousness  passes  over 
her  merry  spirit,  and  a  chill  shadow  of  the  possibilities 
of  the  future  saddens  her  as  she  realizes  what  love  is  to 
her  and  how  frightful  it  would  be  if  her  lover  should 
grow  indifferent. 

B.OS,  Now,  tell  me  how  long  you  would  have  her  after  you 
have  possessed  her. 


244        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

Orl.  For  ever  and  a  day. 

Bos.  Say  *  a  day '  without  the  *ever.'  No,  no,  Orlando ;  men 
are  April  when  they  woo,  December  when  they  wed.  Maids 
are  May  when  they  are  maids,  but  the  sky  changes  when  they 
are  wives. 

Shakespeare  sketches  his  characters  in  broad,  firm 

I  lines ;  then  the  lights  and  shades  are  put  in  by  little 

j  touches  like  the  above,  so  that  they  are  at  once  types 

and  individuals.  The  slight  differentiae  escape  us  unless 

we  imagine  the  person  vividly  or  see  it  portrayed  by  an 

actor  who  realizes  the  part. 

Of  Juliet,  the  heroine  of  love,  at  once  passionate  and 
pure,  Mrs.  Jameson  says :  '  Such  is  the  simplicity,  the 
truth,  and  the  loveliness  of  Juliet's  character,  that  we 
are  not  at  once  aware  of  its  complexity,  its  depth,  and 
its  variety.  All  Shakespeare's  women  either  love  or 
have  loved,  but  Juliet  is  love  itself  —  nearly  the  whole 
of  the  dialogue  appropriated  to  Juliet  is  one  rich  stream 
of  imagery.'  It  is  difficult  to  see  how  the  '  simplicity '  of 
Juliet's  character  can  hide  its  '  complexity.'  Undoubt- 
edly Juliet  is  capable  of  great  resolution,  and  so  is 
her  lover,  but  in  each  case  it  is  under  the  influence  of 
an  exalted  passion  that  they  are  courageous.  Juliet's 
language  in  the  passages  Mrs.  Jameson  has  in  mind  is 
simply  a  lyrical  expression  of  love,  due  to  the  heighten- 
ing and  quickening  of  the  imagination  all  young  people 
experience  when  first  dominated  by  the  most  powerful 
I  of  emotions.  The  theme  of  the  tragedy  goes  no  deeper 
than  true  love  crossed  by  the  stars.  It  is  general,  and 
the  hero  and  heroine  are  more  typical  than  individual, 
and  so  absorbed  in  their  passion  as  to  display  little  else. 
The  play  is  a  beautiful  poem,  but  as  a  study  of  human 
nature  and  of  the  world  it  is  not  in  the  same  class  as 
'  Hamlet  and  Macbeth. 

To  Viola  Mrs.  Jameson  hardly  does  justice,  though 


MIDDLE  OF  NINETEENTH  CENTURY      245 

she  does  say  that  she  '  has  a  touch  of  sentiment  more 
profound  and  heart-stirring '  than  Perdita.  The  truth 
is,  Viola  has  the  most  poetic  soul  of  any  of  the  Shake- 
spearean women.  Portia  says  beautiful  things,  always 
tinged  with  intellectuality.  Juliet  ascends  under  the 
excitement  of  love  or  fear  to  the  heights  of  imaginative 
expression,  but  neither  of  them  could  have  said  on 
hearing  a  strain  of  music,  — 

It  gives  a  very  echo  to  the  seat 
Where  Love  is  throned. 

Viola  has  a  nature  more  akin  to  music  than  either  of 
them,  and,  though  she  lacks  the  high  spirits  of  Rosa- 
lind, she  is  hardly  less  witty.  Besides,  she  is  not  con- 
scious of  being  beloved,  as  Rosalind  is,  and  is  therefore 
more  reflective. 

All  of  Shakespeare's  young  women  are  distinctly 
feminine,  and  but  one  has  a  living  mother,  so  that  he 
missed  the  full  portrayal  of  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
relations,  one  from  which  he  could  readily  have  drawn 
charming  dramatic  effects.  Beatrice  is  the  imperial, 
aristocratic  young  woman,  witty  and  beautiful,  but  in  her 
wit  there  is  no  trace  of  imagination.  Her  standard  of 
honor  is  high,  so  that,  though  she  undoubtedly  loves 
Benedick,  and  probably  was  in  love  with  him  before  the 
play  opens,  she  is  ready  to  have  him  fight  Claudio  in 
the  first  hour  of  their  engagement.  Nevertheless,  she 
will  make  a  devoted  wife,  and  he  will  have  *  fire-new 
jests  to  his  breakfast  every  day.*  Mrs.  Jameson  seems  to 
have  some  doubt  as  to  their  matrimonial  felicity,  which 
only  shows  that  one  brilliant  woman  never  likes  an- 
other. The  vengeful  *  hill  Claudio '  of  Beatrice  to  Bene- 
dick has  a  startling  effect,  and  passes  beyond  the  comic, 
though  it  comes  in  the  first  love  passage,  but  Beatrice 
is  clearly  right,  as  her  lover  sees  in  a  moment. 


f 


246        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

In  common  with  the  critics  of  the  period,  Mrs.  Jame- 
son thinks  that  in  Ophelia  Shakespeare  paints  the 
lily:- 

Ophelia  —  poor  Ophelia.  O  far  too  soft,  too  good,  too  fair 
to  be  cast  among  the  briars  of  this  working-day  world,  and 
fall  and  bleed  upon  the  thorns  of  life !  What  shall  be  said 
of  her  ?  for  eloquence  is  mute  before  her !  Like  a  strain  of  sad, 
sweet  music  which  comes  floating  by  us  on  the  wings  of 
night  and  silence,  and  which  we  rather  feel  than  hear  — 
like  the  exhalation  of  the  violet  dying  even  upon  the  sense 
it  charms  —  like  the  snow  flake  dissolved  in  air  before 
it  has  caught  a  stain  of  earth  —  like  the  light  surf  severed 
from  the  billow,  which  a  breath  disperses  —  such  is  the  char- 
acter of  Ophelia  :  so  exquisitely  delicate  it  seems  as  if  a 
touch  would  profane  it ;  so  sanctified  in  our  thoughts  by 
the  last  and  worst  of  human  woes,  that  we  scarcely  dare  to 
consider  it  too  deeply.  The  love  of  Ophelia  which  she  never 
once  confesses  is  like  a  secret  which  we  have  stolen  from  her, 
and  which  ought  to  die  upon  our  hearts  as  upon  her  own. 

The  above  criticism  illustrates  several  faults  of  the 
romantic  school.  The  style  is  unduly  impassioned,  and 
the  feeling^  are  allowed  to  get  the  better  of  the  under- 
standing.LLife  is  viewed  from  the  emotional  stand- 
point solel^  The  facts  of  the  case  are  disregarded. 
The  feeling  between  Ophelia  and  Hamlet  was  not  the 
powerful  attraction  of  mated  souls,  for  she  did  not  un- 
derstand Hamlet  in  the  least,  and  love  not  only  *  lends 
a  precious  seeing  to  the  eye,*  it  imparts  a  divining 
power  to  the  heart.  Ophelia  obeys  her  father  with  the 
utmost  docility,  which  fact  alone  shows  that  her  love  was 
not  very  deep.  After  the  nunnery  scene,  where  Hamlet 
speaks  to  her  with  cruel  harshness,  she  accepts  the 
theory  that  he  is  insane,  but  her  soliloquy,  '  Oh,  what 
a  noble  mind  is  here  o'erthrown,'  is  quiet  in  its  tone  of 
regret,  and  its  smooth,  equable  rhythm  betrays  no  deep 


MIDDLE  OF  NINETEENTH  CENTURY      247 

feeling.  Mrs.  Jameson  says  also  that  'the  love  of 
Hamlet  for  Ophelia  is  real,  and  is  precisely  the  kind  of 
love  which  such  a  man  as  Hamlet  would  feel  for  such  a 
woman  as  Ophelia/  —  a  pretty  safe  statement,  but  she 
qualifies  it  by  saying  that  '  he  loves  her  with  a  love  as 
intense  as  can  belong  to  a  nature  in  which  there  is  much 
more  of  contemplation  and  sensibility  than  action  or 
passion.'  This  is  the  old  view  of  Hamlet,  which  con- 
siders him  a  dreamer  and  a  weak-willed  person,  and 
need  not  detain  us.  But  Mrs.  Jameson  misconceives 
the  character  of  Ophelia  and  her  function  in  the  soul- 
drama.  The  love  between  her  and  the  prince  is  antece- 
dent to  the  action.  No  doubt  Hamlet  had  been  attracted 
by  her  innocence  and  youth,  for  she  says  that  he  had 
made  *  many  tenders  of  his  affection '  to  her,  and  Ham- 
let was  not  the  man  to  make  such  tenders  as  *  springes 
to  catch  woodcocks.'  When  his  father  died  and  he  was 
brought  face  to  face  with  grief,  it  is  probable  that  he 
perceived  that  she  was  essentially  shallow  and  com- 
monplace ;  for  in  his  first  soliloquy,  which  is  uttered 
before  she  in  obedience  to  her  father  had  refused, 

so  to  slander  any  moment  leisure 
As  to  give  words  or  talk  with  the  Lord  Hamlet, 

he  does  not  refer  to  his  love.  It  is  impossible  that  any 
lover  could  say  of  the  world  :  — 

Fie  on  't,  ah  fie.  '  Tis  an  unweeded  garden 

That  grows  to  seed  ;  things  rank  and  gross  in  nature 

Possess  it  merely, — 

unless  he  had  found  himself  deceived  in  the  woman  he 
loved.  Still  he  tries  to  see  her,  and  her  repulse  no 
doubt  added  to  his  melancholy.  In  the  funeral  scene 
the  pathos  of  the  situation  overcomes  him,  and  for  the 
moment  he  remembers  only  that  he  had  once  thought 
tenderly  of  her,  and  behaves  with  the  most  absurd  ex- 


248        SHAKESPEARE  AND   HIS   CRITICS 

travagance.  In  the  nunnery  scene  he  expresses  his  re- 
sentment and  disappointment  in  the  same  manner,  and 
it  is  a  great  mistake  for  the  actor  to  inject  an  element 
of  tenderness  into  the  representation. 

All  that  Mrs.  Jameson  says  of  the  historical  charac- 
ters, especially  of  Queen  Katharine  and  Constance,  is 
excellent.  Oddly  enough,  she  puts  Lady  Macbeth  among 
the  historical  characters.  In  common  with  all  the  gener- 
ation who  witnessed  the  impressive  representation  of 
Mrs.  Siddons,  she  is  more  struck  with  the  grandeur  than 
with  the  wickedness  of  the  woman,  and  considers  her  the 
far  '  superior  mind.'  Macbeth  is  certainly  her  superior 
in  imaginative  ardor  and  in  the  power  of  putting  his 
visionary  perceptions  into  words.  The  male  and  female 
criminal  are  finely  discriminated  in  the  pair,  and  Lady 
Macbeth  is  certainly  a  great  woman,  the  difference 
being  that  the  evil  energy  is  more  easily  roused  to 
action  in  her  than  in  him,  but  after  it  is  roused  it  car- 
ries him  further  than  she  would  have  gone,  because 
his  imagination  goads  him  on.  The  power  of  foresee- 
ing vividly  the  consequences  of  a  criminal  act  is  an  in- 
tellectual power,  and  its  absence  makes  the  ordinary 
criminal  stupid.  Macbeth  has  this,  and  the  further 
power  of  reflecting  on  his  crime  and  seeing  it  in  its 
relations  to  society  and  its  true  nature.  True,  he  yields 
to  her,  but  that  is  not  because  he  is  the  inferior 
nature,  but  because  he  loves  her  —  she  is  his  wife, 
the  *  dearest  partner  of  his  greatness.' 

Miranda  and  Perdita  are  lovely  creations,  and  no 
one  can  be  insensible  to  their  charm.  Shakespeare  him- 
self seems  to  regard  them  with  paternal  tenderness,  and 
they  are  in  reality  children,  with  all  the  attraction 
of  youthful  promise.  They  are,  however,  but  ideal 
sketches,  not  individualized  enough  to  call  out  differ- 
ences^of  interpretation.  They  are  perfect.  Imogen,  too, 


MIDDLE   OF  NINETEENTH   CENTURY      249 

though  a  woman  and  a  wife,  is  compounded  of  all  that 
is  admirable  and  noble,  though  with  a  sweetness  all  her 
own.  Mrs.  Jameson  considers  her  the  most  perfect  of 
Shakespeare's  female  characters.  '  In  her,'  she  says,  — 

We  have  all  the  fervor  of  youthful  tenderness,  all  the  ro- 
mance of  youthful  fancy,  all  the  enchantment  of  ideal  grace 
—  the  bloom  of  beauty,  the  brightness  of  intellect,  and  the 
dignity  of  rank  taking  a  peculiar  hue  from  the  conjugal  char- 
acter which  is  shed  over  all  like  a  consecration  and  a  holy 
charm. 

These  three  appearing  in  romantic  plays,  where  the 
treatment  is  poetic  rather  than  dramatic,  have,  natur- 
ally, less  complexity  of  nature  than  their  sisters.  They 
speak  little  prose  or  none,  and  the'  iridescence  of  poetry 
clothes  them  with  its  luminous  haze.  They  exist  in  an 
enchanted  land.  So,  indeed,  do  Rosalind  and  Viola; 
but  lUyria  and  the  Forest  of  Arden  are  not  set  so  far 
away  in  the  poetic  world  that  we  cannot  readily  jour- 
ney there  and  find  the  place  less  strange  than  Perdita's 
sheep-shearing,  or  Prosperous  island,  or  Cymbeline's 
Britain. 

It  is  a  mistake  to  imagine  Desdemona,  as  Mrs. 
Jameson  does,  to  be  devoid  of  force  of  character,  though 
her  unsuspecting  innocence  does  give  the  impression  of 
weakness.  Mrs.  Jameson  uses  the  expressions,  '  gentle- 
ness verging  on  passiveness,'  'soft  credulity,'  'endued 
with  that  temper  which  is  the  origin  of  love  as  of  reli- 
gion,' and  adds :  — 

I  know  a  Desdemona  in  real  life,  one  in  whom  the  ab- 
sence of  intellectual  power  is  never  felt  as  a  deficiency,  nop 
the  absence  of  energy  of  will  as  impairing  the  dignity, 
nor  the  most  imperturbable  serenity  as  a  want  of  feeling : 
one  in  whom  thoughts  appear  mere  instincts,  the  senti- 
ment of  rectitude  supplies  the  principle,  and  virtue  itself 
seems  rather  a  necessary  state  of  being  than  an  imposed  law. 


250        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

No  shade  of  sin  or  vanity  has  yet  stolen  over  that  briglit 
innocence.  .  .  .  The  impression  produced  is  exactly  that  of 
the  character  of  Desdemona.  ...  In  Desdemona  we  cannot 
but  feel  that  the  slightest  manifestation  of  intellectual  power 
or  active  will  would  have  injured  the  dramatic  effect.  She  is 
a  victim  consecrated  from  the  first  —  'an  offering  without 
blemish.' 

There  is  a  good  deal  of  truth  in  this.  Desdemona 
does  seem  incapable  of  resentment  or  resistance;  we 
naturally  compare  her  to  a  '  dove  in  the  talons  of  a  vul- 
ture.' But  when  we  examine  the  story  we  find  that  she 
had  resolution  enough  to  leave  her  father's  house  and 
marry  the  man  to  whom  her  heart  was  given,  although 
the  step  forfeited  her  position  as  daughter  of  one  of  the 
Venetian  aristocracy.  She  overcame  the  race  prejudice 
and  '  saw  Othello's  visage  in  his  mind.'  We  cannot  call 
her  weakly  timid  because  she  prevaricated  to  her  hus- 
band about  the  lost  handkerchief,  for  Othello  when 
aroused  was  a  frightful  person.  lago,  evidently  a  man 
of  personal  courage,  is  alarmed  when  he  sees  what  a  dan- 
gerous force  he  has  evoked,  and  Othello  tells  him :  — 

Give  me  the  ocular  proof ; 
Or,  by  the  worth  of  man's  eternal  soul, 
Thou  hadst  been  better  have  been  born  a  dog 
Than  answer  my  naked  wrath. 

lago  sees  at  once  that  Othello  is  dangerous,  and  that 
he  himself  can  take  no  backward  step.  Desdemona  is 
not  so  courageous  as  Juliet,  who,  we  can  well  imagine, 
would  have  gone  directly  to  the  point  and  found  out 
what  was  the  matter  with  her  husband,  but  she  is  far 
from  a  negative  character.  Her  goodness  of  heart  is 
positive,  and  forces  her  to  active  exertions  for  Cassio. 
j  In  much  the  same  way  the  beauty  of  Cordelia's  love, 
ihich  has  made  her  the  type  of  the  relation  between 


MIDDLE  OF  NINETEENTH  CENTURY      251 

father  and  daughter,  blinds  Mrs.  Jameson  to  the  de- 
fects of  her  character.  Cordelia  understands  the  selfish- 
ness of  her  sisters,  and  it  is  a  noble  pride  which  makes 
her  disdain  to  enter  on  a  contest  in  fulsome  praise 
with  them,  but  her  conduct  in  the  first  act  certainly 
verges  on  the  bounds  of  willful  perversity.  It  would 
have  been  the  part  of  an  intelligent  and  kind  daughter 
to  have  humored  the  old  man  instead  of  goading  him 
to  fury  by  untimely  opposition.  Cordelia  will  make  no 
terms  with  hypocrisy.  Her  proud  reticence — not  un- 
common in  young  people — is  a  defect,  though  the  de- 
fect of  a  fine  nature.  She  loves  her  father  and  knows 
very  well  that  he  loves  her,  but  she  virtually  insults 
and  bitterly  disappoints  him  in  public.  She  displays 
bluntness  and  lack  of  tact  and  incapacity  to  grasp  the 
situation.  She  could  not  have  foreseen  the  hard  cruelty 
which  power  would  develop  in  her  sisters,  but  she  knew 
them  selfish,  and  must  have  known  that  she  was  deliv- 
ering Lear  into  their  hands.  She  says  to  them :  — 

I  know  you  what  you  are ; 
And,  like  a  sister,  am  most  loath  to  call 
Your  faults  as  they  are  named.^ 

And  this  before  they  have  said  a  word  to  her.  'She 
must  have  loved  the  King  of  France  and  known  that 
he  loved  her,  and  this  alone  should  have  made  her  more 
considerate.  Cordelia  is  an  uncompromising  person, 
and  as  much  harm  is  done  in  this  world  by  the  good 
who  will  hold  no  terms  with  evil  and  will  admit  no  half- 
way measures  as  by  the  wicked  themselves.  Cordelia 
is  essentially  good,  and  yet  her  conduct  is  the  fons  et 
origo  of  all  her  father's  sufferings.  Cordelia's  character 

^  Mrs.  Jameson  says,  *  Her  mild  magnanimity  shines  out  in  her 
farewell  to  her  sisters.'  If  this  is  magnanimity,  how  would  Cor- 
delia express  scorn  ? 


252        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

is  by  no  means  all  beautiful,  but  her  love  for  her  father 
is  pure  womanly,  and  makes  her  appear  an  angel  of 
light,  especially  in  comparison  with  her  sisters.  The 
father  and  sisters  are  all  marked  by  courage  and  quick- 
ness of  temper  and  dislike  of  any  restraint.  Lear  and 
Cordelia  have  in  addition  the  capacity  for  loving.  So 
great  is  our  admiration  for  this,  and  so  settled  our  con- 
sciousness that  it  is  a  divine  thing,  that  we  rank  Cordelia 
high  among  women,  though  any  other  of  the  Shake- 
spearean heroines  would  have  prevented  or  avoided  the 
frightful  misfortunes  her  willfulness  entailed. 

Women  sometimes  comprehend  character  instinct- 
ively without  being  able  to  justify  their  conclusions 
logically.  In  analyzing  Cleopatra  Mrs.  Jameson  does 
not  comprehend  and  cannot  justify  her  non-comprehen- 
sion. The  character  is  perhaps  too  complex  and  too 
feminine  to  admit  of  analysis.  Mrs.  Jameson's  estimate 
of  her  as  made  up  of  'inconsistent  consistency,'  a  unity 
in  '  infinite  variety,'  rather  dodges  the  question,  but  is 
perhaps  as  near  as  any  one  comes  to  explaining  this 
marvelous  creation.  To  some  of  the  minor  characters, 
like  Emilia,  she  does  scant  justice ;  others,  like  the 
Queen  in  Hamlet^  she  ignores.  But  she  has  done  much 
in  calling  attention  to  the  reality  and  truth  of  the 
heroines  to  know  whom  is  a  liberal  education. 

KICHAKD   GRANT  T^THITE 

Mr.  Richard  Grant  White  was  the  first  American 
Shakespearean  scholar  to  win  a  European  reputation. 
His  criticism  appeared  for  the  most  part  in  American 
magazines  between  1850  and  1880,  and  was  afterwards 
collected  in  Studies  in  Shahespeare.  His  Shakespeare 
Scholar^  however,  was  published  in  1854.  This  is  a  large 
octavo  (500  pages).  In  it  he  gives  an  historical  sketch 
of  the  text  and  the  successive  editors,  a  critical  exami- 


MIDDLE   OF  NINETEENTH  CENTURY      253 

nation  of  the  notes  in  Mr.  Collier's  folio,  in  which  he 
completely  disproves  their  value,  and  a  review  of  the 
plays,  devoted  for  the  most  part  to  a  consideration  of 
the  various  suggested  readings.  He  published  also  two 
very  beautiful  editions  of  the  plays,  decidedly  the  best 
that  had  appeared  up  to  that  time  in  America.  His 
knowledge  of  etymology  and  his  acquaintance  with 
Elizabethan  literature  make  his  textual  criticism  of 
high  value,  though  he  is  a  little  inclined  to  incisive  and 
sarcastic  comments  on  his  predecessors,  most  of  whom 
well  deserve  his  strictures.  He  has  the  merit  denied  to 
many  textual  critics  of  being  entertaining,  and  the  fur- 
ther not  less  rare  merit  of  not  adhering  to  an  inter- 
pretation when  he  is  convinced,  or  should  be  convinced, 
that  it  is  wrong. 

Mr.  White's  bent  is  not  at  all  towards  philosophical 
or  aesthetic  criticism.  He  was  an  artist,  and  a  musical 
critic  of  high  rank,  and  in  spite  of  his  etymological 
attainments  the  play  appeared  to  him  as  a  beautiful 
work  of  art,  and  he  admires  the  comedies  as  much  as 
the  tragedies.  He  regards  the  characters  as  contem- 
porary men  and  women  rather  than  as  heroes  on  the 
ideal  plane,  and  he  pays  no  attention  to  construction  in 
the  broad  sense.  Had  he  read  Frey  tag's  book,  he  would 
have  felt  impatient  of  the  views  it  presents,  as  unprac- 
tical and  fanciful.  But  his  artistic  sense  made  him  an 
unerring  judge  of  the  actor's  interpretation  of  a  part 
or  of  a  delicately  sentimental  or  humorous  scene.  This 
instinctive  perception  of  concrete  beauty  is  compatible 
with  a  taste  for  philosophical  analysis,  but  in  Mr. 
White  the  two  were  not  combined. 

Thus,  after  saying  that  the  dramatic  unities  are  ob- 
served in  The,  Tempest^  he  hastens  to  add :  — 

I  do  wrong  to  say  that  they  are  observed,  which  implies 
purpose  on  the  part  of  the  dramatist ;  and  nothing  is  clearer 


254        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

to  me,  the  more  I  read  and  reflect  upon  his  works,  than  that  after 
his  first  three  or  four  years'  experience  as  a  dramatist,  he  was 
entirely  without  any  art^purpose  or  aim  whatever,  and  used 
his  materials  just  as  they  came  to  his  hand,  taking  no  more 
pains  with  them  than  he  thought  necessary  to  work  them  into 
a  play  that  would  please  his  audience  and  suit  his  company, 
while  at  the  same  time,  from  the  necessities  of  his  nature  and 
the  impulse  that  was  within  him,  he  brought  out  the  charac- 
ters of  his  personages  with  the  knowledge  of  a  creator  of  hu- 
man souls,  and  in  his  poetry  showed  himself  the  supremest 
master  of  human  utterance.  The  Tempest  conforms  to  the 
unities  of  time  and  place  merely  because  the  story  made  it 
convenient  for  the  writer  to  observe  them ;  the  Winter's  Tale 
defies  them  because  its  story  made  the  observance  of  them 
very  troublesome,  and,  indeed,  almost,  if  not  quite,  impossible. 
There  has  been  a  great  deal  of  ingenious  speculation  about 
Shakespeare's  system  of  dramatic  art.  It  is  all  unfounded, 
vague,  and  worthless.  Shakespeare  had  no  system  of  dramatic 
art.  .  .  .  Shakespeare  did  not  write  plays  with  '  central  ideas.' 
In  all  such  incidents  as  those  referred  to  \_Merchant  of  Venice~\ 
he  merely  followed  the  course  or  indications  of  the  stories 
upon  which  he  worked,  as  will  appear  in  a  very  marked  manner 
in  the  next  play  which  we  shall  examine  —  Romeo  and  Juliet. 
.  .  .  Shakespeare  merely  dramatized  the  old  ballad  to  make 
a  play  to  please  his  audience,  just  as  any  hack-playwright 
might  to-day,  who  was  engaged  by  a  manager  to  do  a  like 
task.  It  merely  happened  that  he  had  a  peculiar  way  of  doing 
such  things.  As  to  a  moral,  plainly  nothing  was  further  from 
Shakespeare's  thought. 

The  above  would  tend  to  make  Shakespeare  a  brilliant 
and  skillful  adaptor  with  the  box-office  in  his  mind.  He 
did  work  over  old  stories,  but  he  made  them  dramatic 
themes.  He  added  or  omitted  incidents,  and  created 
characters  out  of  names.  The  play  frequently  has  a 
central  moral  conception  totally  different  from  the 
naive,  mediaeval  story  on  which  it  is  founded.  The  sub- 
ject brings  up  the  very  obscure  question :  What  does  the 


MIDDLE  OF  NINETEENTH  CENTURY      255 

conscious  intelligence  contribute  to  a  work  of  art,  and 
what  is  due  to  the  unconscious  soul?  It  cannot  be  dis- 
missed in  a  summary  way  by  saying, '  Shakespeare  had 
no  system  of  dramatic  art.' 

The  ultra-materialistic  form  of  interpretation  which 
came  in  during  the  latter  part  of  the  century  was  a  re- 
action from  the  ultra-romanticism  of  the  earlier  decades. 
Romanticism  degenerates  into  sentimentalism  as  readily 
as  genuine  religious  expression  does  into  cant.  It  was 
natural  that  sturdy  common  sense  should  reassert  itself, 
and  go  as  far  in  denying  inspiration  and  transcendental 
meaning  as  romanticism  had  in  exalting  them.  But  there 
is  something  very  annoying  in  bald,  common-sense  criti- 
cism, because  there  is  an  element  of  truth  in  it,  and  that 
element  is  precisely  what  perverts  it.  Thus  when  we  read, 
'  Shakespeare's  case  was  in  no  wise  essentially  different 
from  that  of  a  young  man  from  the  country  who  now- 
adays comes  to  New  York  to  join  the  staff  of  a  news- 
paper. He  simply  brought  his  youth  and  talents  to  the 
central  market  and  rose  by  the  force  of  native  abilities,* 
we  feel  like  admitting  the  analogy.  Shakespeare  was  a 
young  man  of  '  native  abilities ' ;  he  did  *  come  up  '  from 
the  country  to  the  city  and  enter  into  the  competition 
of  life.  For  the  moment  we  forget  how  different  was 
the  '  coming  up '  on  horseback,  with  leisurely  conver- 
sation and  greetings  to  other  wayfarers  and  the  stop  at 
Oxford  and  Windsor  and  the  loiterings  on  the  country 
road,  from  being  'conveyed'  on  a  railroad.  'The  city' 
was  in  a  different  world  from  modern  London.  Realistic 
criticism  overlooks  the  spiritual  effects  of  environment, 
—  its  real,  vital  effect,  —  and  calls  a  city  a  city ;  a  young 
man  of  the  sixteenth  century  the  counterpart  of  his  suc- 
cessor of  the  twentieth,  and  writing  the  same  sort  of 
trade  then  that  it  is  now.  The  historic  sense  and  the 
artistic  sense  are  both  in  abeyance  when  such  assertions 


256        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS   CRITICS 

are  taken  literally,  and  we  pin  our  faith  to  the  dictum 
that  human  nature  is  the  same  radically  in  all  ages. 

In  speaking  of  Mr.  Fleay's  method  of  determining 
the  relative  dates  of  the  plays  by  the  percentage  of 
rhymes,  of  '  end-stopt  lines,*  '  weak  endings,'  and  the 
like,  Mr.  White  says,  with  much  good  sense :  — 

The  student  who  proposes  to  enter  upon  the  well-worked 
field  of  Shakespearean  criticism,  or  to  become  his  editor, 
might  have  his  attention  directed  to  certain  minute  traits  of 
Shakespeare's  versification  in  this  second  period.  But  to  one 
who  only  seeks  to  enjoy  Shakespeare's  poetry  and  his  dra- 
niatic  creations  and  to  follow  the  development  of  his  powers, 
this  would  be  dry,  almost  arithmetical,  and  quite  unprofitable 
work.  Nor  can  these  traits  of  mere  external  form  be  relied 
upon  with  reasonable  confidence.  Their  value  as  criterions 
depends  in  a  great  measure  upon  the  theory  of  probabilities 
and  chances ;  and  this,  although  it  is  a  safe  guide  as  to  the 
actions  of  mankind,  cannot  be  trusted  as  regards  the  actions 
of  one  man.  For  in  the  latter  case,  there  enter  into  the  prob- 
lem the  indeterminable  quantities  of  will,  preference,  deliber- 
ate intention,  and  passing  mood.  We  may  establish  a  for- 
mula by  which  we  may  determine  with  reasonable  certainty 
how  many  letters  will  be  dropped  into  a  certain  post-oflSce 
without  addresses  or  unsealed  during  a  year,  but  we  cannot 
in  the  same  way  determine  how  many  in  like  condition  any 
one  man  has  dropped  in  or  will  drop  in  during  the  same  time, 
for  we  can  never  be  acquainted  with  all  the  circumstances 
and  impulses  which  influence  his  action.  Metrical  tests,  of 
whatever  kind,  have  a  value  in  the  establishment  of  the  order 
of  production  of  a  poet's  works ;  but  they  are  secondary  and 
accessory  and  must  be  considered  only  in  connection  with  all 
other  evidence,  external  and  internal. 

The  above  embodies  a  sound  principle  of  criticism. 
The  percentages  of  metrical  forms  give  no  absolute 
proof  of  the  date  of  a  composition,  but  as  far  as  they 
indicate  qualities  of  style  are  entitled  to  great  weight, 


MIDDLE  OF  NINETEENTH  CENTURY      257 

for  style  changes  with  practice,  and  it  is  very  doubtful 
if  a  man  could  write  in  middle  age  as  he  did  in  his 
youth  without  considerable  effort  to  imitate  his  younger 
self.  The  relative  number  of  end-stopt  and  overflow 
lines,  for  instance,  affects  the  intrinsic  qualities  of  style 
that  have  to  do  with  the  substance  of  the  poem,  and  in 
Shakespeare's  case  afford  a  pretty  sure  criterion  of  the 
maturity  of  the  author.  The  relative  number  of  rhymed 
and  unrhymed  lines,  on  the  other  hand,  is  a  question  of 
literary  fashion,  which  might  be  dropped  and  then  taken 
up  again. 

As  might  be  anticipated  from  his  matter-of-fact  way 
of  regarding  the  plays  as  written  solely  with  a  view  to 
the  London  audience,  Mr.  White  has  little  patience 
with  the  Germans  or  with  aesthetic  criticism.  Ulrici  he 
calls  a  '  mad  mystic,'  which  is  far  enough  from  being 
just ;  and  Gervinus,  a  '  literary  Dogberry,  bestowing  his 
tediousness  on  all  the  world  with  a  generosity  surpass- 
ing that  of  his  prototype,'  which  is  hardly  a  less  exag- 
gerated statement.  'In  my  own  edition,'  he  says,  'I 
avoided  as  much  as  possible  the  introduction  of  aesthetic 
criticism,  not  because  of  its  difficulty,  for  it  is  easy  and 
alluring  work.  .  .  .  But  in  my  judgment  the  duty  of  an 
editor  is  performed  when  he  puts  his  reader  as  nearly 
as  possible  in  the  same  position  for  the  apprehension  of 
his  author's  meaning  that  he  would  have  occupied  if  he 
had  been  contemporary  with  him  and  had  received  from 
him  a  correct  copy  of  his  writings.'  An  editor  who 
could  put  his  readers  in  the  'same  position  for  the 
apprehension  of  the  author's  meaning '  as  an  average 
Elizabethan  contemporary  was,  would  be  not  only  an 
editor  but  a  commentator  of  inspired  qualities,  for  he 
must  re-create  in  us  imaginatively  the  old  superstitions, 
veneration  for  royalty,  credulity  about  distant  countries, 
and  a  temper  of  mind  that  has  passed  away  entirely. 


258        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

Commentators  like  Coleridge,  Charles  Lamb,  and  Ulrici 
help  us  to  recapture  a  poetical  apprehension  of  the 
author's  meaning  when  not  the  bare  content  of  the 
words,  but  the  meaning,  is  felt,  but  even  they  cannot 
make  us  Elizabethans.  Mr.  White  says  further :  — 

Not  a  little  of  the  Shakespearean  criticism  of  this  kind  is 
the  mere  result  of  an  effort  to  say  something  fine  about  what 
needs  no  gilding,  no  such  prism-play  of  light  to  enhance  or 
bring  out  its  beauties.  I  will  not  except  from  these  remarks 
much  of  what  Coleridge  himself  has  written  about  Shake- 
speare. But  the  German  critics  whom  he  emulated  are  worse 
than  he.  Avoid  them.  The  German  pretence  that  Germans 
have  taught  us  folk  of  English  blood  and  speech  to  understand 
Shakespeare  is  the  most  absurd  and  arrogant  thing  that  could 
be  set  up.  Shakespeare  owes  them  nothing,  and  we  have  re- 
ceived from  them  little  more  than  some  maundering  mystifi- 
cations and  much  ponderous  platitude.  Like  the  western  di- 
ver, they  go  down  deeper  and  stay  down  longer  than  other 
critics,  but  like  him,  too,  they  come  up  muddier.  Above  all  of 
them,  avoid  Ulrici  and  Gervinus. 

The  above,  especially  in  grouping  such  different  men 
as  Ulrici  and  Gervinus,  is  unscholarly  and  uncritical, 
and  can  hardly  be  pardoned  in  view  of  Mr.  White's 
undoubtedly  valuable  services.  His  examination  of  the 
tragedies  minimizes  the  element  of  romance  and  strange- 
ness and  pushes  common  sense  to  the  bounds  of  material- 
lism.  In  his  paper  on  Hamlet  he  certainly  errs  in  saying 
that  the  Queen  '  consented  to,  or  at  least  winked  at  her 
husband's  murder  by  her  paramour.'  This  would  change 
the  entire  ethical  groundwork  of  the  play  as  it  is  gener- 
ally received,  and  would  leave  the  ghost's  injunction,  — • 

nor  let  thy  soul  contrive 
Against  thy  mother  aught,  — 

without  any  justification. 


MIDDLE  OF  NINETEENTH  CENTURY      259 

He  assumes  also  that  Hamlet '  could  not  have  been 
more  than  twenty  years  old '  at  the  date  of  his  father's 
murder,  and  also  that  he  was  in  college  at  the  time.  As 
the  gravedigger  says  definitely  that  he  was  twenty-eight 
or  thirty,  we  must  take  it  for  granted  that  it  is  the 
wreck  of  early  manhood,  not  of  youth,  that  the  drama- 
tist took  as  his  theme.  Horatio  came  from  Wittenberg 
to  the  funeral.  Had  Hamlet  been  there,  they  would 
probably  have  come  together,  and  certainly  Hamlet 
would  have  known  a  fellow  countryman  in  a  strange 
city  well  enough  to  make  it  impossible  for  him  to  ex- 
press the  doubt  implied  in, — 

Horatio,  —  or  I  do  forget  myself. 

It  is  true,  Hamlet  has  expressed  a  desire  to  go  'back 
to  Wittenberg,'  but  that  may  as  readily  mean,  back 
after  an  absence  of  four  years,  as  back  from  a  short 
absence.  We  must  take  it  that  Hamlet  was  at  Elsinore 
at  the  time  of  his  father's  murder.  In  his  paper  on  Lear 
Mr.  White  assumes  that  the  '  Fool  and  Lear  have  grown 
old  together.'  'The  Fool  has  the  marks  of  time  upon 
his  face  as  well  as  upon  his  mind,  though  the  King  is 
much  the  older.'  The  better  opinion  is  that  the  Fool  is 
a  young  man,  an  affectionate  feather-head,  a  contrast 
to  the  King  in  age  and  physique. 

These  are  blemishes  of  no  great  importance,  compared 
with  Mr.  White's  appreciation  of  the  plays  as  artistic 
creations,  as  poetic  representations  of  strong  men  and 
beautiful  women  in  beautiful  places.  He  pays  no  atten- 
tion to  the  fact  that  the  tragedies  show  us  —  what  we 
can  never  learn  from  real  life — how  great  men  meet 
great  trials  and  overwhelming  misfortune.  In  his  long 
chapter  in  Shakespeare^ s  Scholar  on  that  powerful  play 
Measure  for  Measure  he  takes  a  much  lower  view  of  the 
character  of  Isabella  than  most  commentators  do.  He 


260        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

regards  her  as  radically  cold-hearted,  a  professional 
prude,  and  a  very  disagreeable  young  woman,  and  it 
must  be  allowed  that  he  makes  out  his  case  with  great 
acuteness.  It  is  easier  to  agree  with  him  than  with  Ger- 
vinus,  who  calls  her  a  '  complete  human  nature,'  or  with 
Mrs.  Jameson,  who  gushes  over  her  as  an  embodiment 
of  angelic  purity.  The  play  is,  however,  such  a  tremen- 
dous indictment  of  sexual  impurity  as  to  be  beyond  the 
scope  of  ordinary  criticism. 

'  No  one  ever  saw  better  than  Mr.  White  how  a  Shake- 
spearean play  should  be  acted  to  bring  out  the  dramatic 
truth  as  opposed  to  the  theatrical  effects.  His  sense  of 
/  artistic  propriety  is  unerring,  and  is  especially  evident 
in  the  chapters  on  *  the  acting  of  lago '  and  on  *  Stage 
Rosalinds.' 

Of  Rosalind  he  says  that  she  was  thoroughly  disguised 
by  the  trunk  hose  of  the  period,  and  that  she  should 
allow  no  suggestion  of  her  feminine  character  to  escape 
her  when  disguised,  except  when  she  is  alone  with  Celia, 
The  audience  are  in  the  secret,  of  course,  but  they  do 
not  wish  to  have  Orlando  seem  like  a  fool  in  not  dis- 
covering that  Ganymede  is  a  woman.  Mr.  White  says :  — 

The  absolute  incongruity  between  the  real  Rosalind  and 
the  seeming  Ganymede  is  the  very  essence  of  the  comedy  of 
the  situation.  One  example  of  this,  which  I  have  never  seen 
properly  emphasized  upon  the  stage :  at  the  end  of  the  first 
interview  with  Orlando  in  the  forest,  after  she  has  wheedled 
him  into  wooing  her  as  Rosalind,  she  asks  him  to  go  with  her 
to  her  cot. 

*  Ros,  Go  with  me  to  it,  and  I  '11  show  it  you :  and  by 
the  way  you  shall  tell  me  where  in  the  forest  you  live.  Will 
you  go  ? 

*  OrL  With  all  my  heart,  good  youth. 

'  Ros.  Nay,  you  must  call  me  Rosalind.  Come,  sister,  will 
you  go  ? ' 


MIDDLE  OF  NINETEENTH  CENTURY      261 

Now,  here  most  Rosalinds  go  shyly  off  with  Celia,  and 
leave  Orlando  to  come  dangling  after  them ;  hut  when  I  read 
this  passage  I  see  Ganymede  jauntily  slip  his  arm  into  Or- 
lando'S)  and  lead  him  off,  laughingly  lecturing  him  ahout  the 
name ;  then  turn  his  (or  her)  head  over  his  (or  her)  shoulder 
and  say,  *  come,  sister,'  —  leaving  Celia  astounded  at  the 
boundless  *  cheek '  of  her  enamoured  cousin. 

The  article  shows  a  very  delicate  appreciation  of  the 
comic  spirit.  Mr.  White's  sarcastic  wit  makes  his  text- 
ual notes  entertaining,  especially  the  long  excursus  in 
which  he  ridicules  Schmidt's  Shakespearean  Lexicon, 
In  the  latter  half  of  the  nineteenth  century,  interest  in 
industrial  and  scientific  questions,  fostered  by  the  writ- 
ings of  Darwin,  Spencer,  and  their  disciples,  brought 
about,  as  we  said  before,  a  temporary  reaction  against 
the  romantic  spirit.  The  world  was  to  be  interpreted  in 
the  terms  of  every-day  phenomena,  and  the  artist  was 
no  more  than  a  superior  workman.  The  spiritual  was 
the  unknowable,  and  the  mysterious  and  awful,  only 
something  not  yet  understood.  The  old  metaphysic  was 
discredited,  and  the  new  not  established.  Mr.  White's 
criticism  reflects  this  passing  temper  of  mind,  which 
examines  the  phenomenon  before  it  and  refuses  to  in- 
vestigate obscure  motives  or  delicate  mental  reactions. 
But  as  he  is  an  artist  himself, — not  merely  a  literary- 
artist,  like  Coleridge,  but  a  lover  of  beautiful  things 
made  by  man, — he  views  the  plays  from  an  artistic 
standpoint,  in  spite  of  his  unconscious  deference  to  the 
spirit  of  the  age.  To  him  the  drama  was  always  an  act- 
able play,  and  as  he  knew  better  than  any  other  writer 
on  the  subject  how  it  ought  to  be  acted,  his  criticism 
has  justness  and  novelty  even  when  he  aims  at  common 
sense  alone  and  scorns  aesthetics,  the  soul  of  art. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  LATER  NINETEENTH  CENTURY 
AIiGEKNON"  CHAKLES   SWINBURNB 

Mr.  Swinburne's  Study  of  Shakespeare  (1880)  is 
the  first  detailed  criticism  of  the  plays  by  a  poet  of 
high  rank  (if  we  except  the  essays  of  Thomas  Camp- 
bell) since  the  lectures  of  Coleridge  seventy  years  before. 
Many  others  have  left  in  short  papers  or  poems  testi- 
mony to  their  admiration.  Many  men  of  poetic  sensi- 
bility, though  not  poetic  craftsmen,  as  Hazlitt  and  Lamb, 
have  expressed  at  length  their  appreciation  of  Shake- 
speare's poetic  power,  for  it  is  not  necessary  that  a  man 
should  possess  technical  skill  in  order  to  comprehend 
and  criticise  intelligently  the  highest  expression  of 
human  thought  and  feeling.  If  he  really  loves  art  and 
has  learned  something  of  its  historical  development,  he 
may  be  able  to  justify  his  love  by  a  reasonable  analy- 
sis and  to  touch  other  minds  with  something  of  his  own 
enthusiasm.  Nevertheless,  what  one  great  craftsman 
has  to  say  of  another  has  a  peculiar  interest,  even  when 
it  is  as  hopelessly  inadequate  as  Tolstoy's  views  of 
Shakespeare,  for  he  rarely  fails  to  take  at  least  an 
independent  and  personal  standpoint. 

Mr.  Swinburne's  prose  style  is  a  very  vicious  one,  but 
is  full  of  animation  and  sonorous  clangor.  Excessively 
long  and  involved  sentences  containing  from  one  hun- 
dred to  one  hundred  and  fifty  words  often  bury  the 
meaning  in  a  redundancy  of  adjectives.  These  sentences 
are  not  only  long,  but  they  are  neatly  tied  in  an  orna- 
mented bow-knot,  and  if  we  can  find  the  ends  and  pull 
on  them  they  readily   straighten   out  into  a  line  of 


THE  LATER  NINETEENTH  CENTURY     263 

thought,  usually  a  truism  which  Mr.  Swinburne's 
hatred  of  the  commonplace  has  led  him  to  adorn  with 
extravagant  rhetoric.  One  reason  for  his  obscurity  is 
that  he  rarely  states  his  subject  or  predicate  definitely, 
and  we  frequently  have  to  wait  till  the  next  sentence 
to  be  sure  of  his  meaning.  If  he  wishes  to  speak  of 
Shakespeare,  Rabelais,  and  Cervantes,  he  calls  them 
the  *  divine  and  human  trio  of  humorists  whose  names 
make  radiant  forever  the  century  of  their  new-born 
glory.'  We  know  that  Shakespeare  is  one,  for  he  is  the 
subject  of  the  book ;  we  learn  soon  that  Rabelais  is  the 
second,  and  on  the  next  page  the  mention  of  Sancho 
shows  us  that  Cervantes  is  the  third.  We  could  not 
have  been  certain  of  this  till  the  name  is  mentioned,  for 
Mr.  Swinburne  is  so  whimsical  in  his  judgments  that 
he  might  have  been  referring  to  some  obscure  writer. 
If  he  has  occasion  to  mention  Ben  Jonson  and  Fletcher, 
he  calls  one  the  '  author  of  Volpone^ '  and  the  other 
*  the  creator  of  ValentinianJ*  Mr.  Swinburne  would  say 
that  he  writes  for  intelligent  adults  only,  and  that  his 
conundrums  are  not  difficult  ones ;  but  they  sometimes 
call  for  more  ingenuity  than  a  writer  should  demand 
of  a  reader.  Lucidity  is,  after  all,  an  artistic  quality  of 
prose.  Mr.  Swinburne's  dislike  of  personal  names  is 
noticeable  even  when  speaking  of  his  contemporaries. 
His  loathing  and  scorn  for  the  members  of  the  '  New 
Shakespearean  Society,'  especially  for  the  estimable 
and  laborious  men  who  count  the  ten-syllable,  eleven- 
syllable,  rhymed  and  unrhymed,  weak-ending  and  light- 
ending  lines,  is  unmeasured,  and  expressed  in  un- 
measured terms ;  but  he  mentions  no  names,  and  we  can 
never  be  positive  whether  he  is  referring  to  Mr.  Furni- 
vall  or  Mr.  Fleay  or  some  one  else  who  has  excited 
his  wrath.  His  sense  of  propriety  forbids  more  than 
evident  allusions,  like  the  initials  in  eighteenth-century 


264        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

pamphlets  or  Swift's  manufactured  names  in  Gulliver*8 
Travels,  His  witty  satire  in  the  Appendix  —  one  of 
the  neatest  literary  skits  of  the  century — is  concerned 
solely  with  Mr.  A.,  Mr.  B.,  or  Mr.  C.  In  fact,  he  says :  — 

Never  once  in  my  life  have  I  had  or  will  I  have  recourse 
in  self-defence,  either  to  the  blackguard's  loaded  bludgeon 
of  personalities  or  to  the  dastard's  sheathed  dagger  of  dis- 
guise. I  have  reviled  no  man's  person  ;  I  have  outraged  no 
man's  privacy. 

It  is  difficult  to  say  what  Mr.  Swinburne's  idea  of  a 
loaded  bludgeon  of  personalities  is,  for  in  the  same 
book  we  find,  apropos  of  the  egotistic,  aristocratic  prig 
and  self-righteous  murderer,  Marcus  Brutus,  the  fol- 
lowing '  sheathed  dagger '  struck  at  the  back  of  a  man 
too  old  to  answer  and  too  highly  honored  by  the  world 
to  make  it  worth  while  for  his  friends  to  answer  for 
him:  — 

Whatever  manner  of  man  may  have  been  the  actual  Ro- 
man, our  Shakespearean  Brutus  is  undoubtedly  the  very  no- 
blest figure  of  a  typical  and  ideal  republican  in  all  the  litera- 
ture of  the  world.  *  A  democracy  such  as  yours  is  my  ab- 
horrence,* wrote  Landor  once  to  an  impudent  and  foul-mouthed 
Yankee  philosophaster  (this  word,  permissible  or  not,  but 
certainly  convenient,  is  none  of  mine,  but  belongs  to  the  late 
Mr.  Kingsley),  who  had  intruded  himself  on  that  great 
man's  privacy  in  order  to  have  the  privilege  of  afterwards 
informing  the  readers  of  a  pitiful  pamphlet  on  England  that 
Landor  had  *  pestered  him  with  Southey,*  an  impertinence,  I 
may  add,  which  Mr.  Landor  at  once  rebuked  with  the  sharp- 
est contempt  and  chastised  with  the  haughtiest  courtesy.  But 
the  old  friend  and  lifelong  champion  of  Kossuth  went  on  to 
say,  his  feelings  were  far  different  towards  a  republic.^ 

^  By  a  republic  he  evidently  meant  an  aristocracy.  It  is  easy 
to  see  why  many  Englishmen  of  his  class  were  hostile  to  the 
Union  in  our  Civil  War. 


THE  LATER  NINETEENTH   CENTURY      265 

It  is  hard  to  believe  that  the  above  refers  to  the 
gentle  and  refined  Emerson,  and  that  the  *  pitiful  pam- 
phlet '  is  English  Traits^  a  book  of  shrewd  and  kindly 
comment  and  penetrating  insight.  Literature  may  be 
searched  in  vain  for  a  more  misplaced  adjective  than 
*  foul-mouthed  *  applied  to  a  man  so  marked  by  purity 
of  thought,  reticence  of  expression,  and  delicacy  of 
feeling.  On  turning  to  the  passage  we  find  that  Emer- 
son speaks  of  Landor  in  terms  of  high  appreciation. 
The  amusing  thing  in  the  extract  is  —  or  perhaps  it  is 
too  extraordinary  to  be  amusing  —  that  Mr.  Swin- 
burne is  entirely  unconscious  that  Landor's  words,  '  A 
democracy  such  as  yours  is  my  abhorrence,*  were  insuf- 
ferably insolent,  judged  by  the  ordinary  standard,  of 
good  breeding.  To  tell  a  man  to  his  face  that  he  is  your 
abhorrence  has  at  least  the  merit  of  courage,  but  to 
abuse  a  man's  mother  or  his  country  by  letter  betokens 
a  singular  lack  of  conventional  politeness,  and  may  be 
'haughty,'  but  certainly  is  not  'courtesy.'  Both  Mr. 
Landor  and  Mr.  Swinburne  display  an  extraordinary 
obtuseness,  a  thickness  of  perception,  due  to  an  absence 
of  humor,  rare  among  Englishmen  of  culture^ 

Mr.  Swinburne's  criticism  of  the  plays  is  ^^fined  to 
sonorous  eulogium]  He  even  calls  the  Comedy  of  Er- 
rors  a  ' light  and  lovely  work '  —  'on  its  own  ground 
perfect  in  its  consistency,  blameless  in  composition  and 
coherence.'  He  apprehends  the  plays  as  beautiful  things 
with  all  the  fervor  of  a  poet's  fancy,  and  praises  them 
with  more  than  the  enthusiasm  of  a  passionate  parti- 
san. But  he  cannot  point  out  where  the  beauty  lies. 
He  is  like  an  old-fashioned  exhorter,  who  can  arouse 
careless  souls,  but  knows  no  theology.  He  has  not  sufii- 
cient  grasp  of  human  nature  to  comprehend  the  char- 
acters, nor  sufficient  knowledge  of  the  world  to  perceive 
the  inner  truth  of  the  action  and  its  correspondence  to 


266        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

universal  law ;  but  never,  since  the  day  of  Coleridge, 
has  the  poetic  beauty  of  the  plays  been  celebrated  in 
more  convincing  and  enthusiastic  terms.  Analysis  of 
any  sort  is  foreign  to  his  temperament,  but  his  appre- 
ciations are  instinctively  right,  even  if  sometimes  ex- 
pressed in  exaggerated  language.  He  combats  vigor- 
ously the  notion  that  Hamlet  was  irresolute,  and  we 
agree  with  him ;  but  to  the  question,  '  If  not  irresolute 
why  did  he  act  irresolutely  ? '  he  has  no  answer  to  give. 
It  never  occurs  to  him  that  such  a  question  presents 
itself  irresistibly  to  most  readers,  or  that  Hamlet  is  in 
any  sense  a  study  in  human  nature.  Hamlet  is  good,  he 
is  charming.  Hamlet  says  beautiful  things,  lago  says 
horrible  things ;  that  is  enough.  So  the  fine  characters 
get  rhapsodical  admiration,  the  bad  ones  rhapsodical 
abuse,  and  they  deserve  it.  What  he  says  of  Hamlet  is 
admirable  as  far  as  it  goes :  — 

I  trust  it  will  be  taken  as  no  breach  of  my  past  pledge  to 
abstain  from  all  intrusion  on  the  sacred  ground  of  Gigadibs 
and  the  Germans,  if  I  venture  to  indicate  a  touch  inserted 
by  Shakespeare  for  no  other  perceptible  or  conceivable  pur- 
pose than  to  obviate  by  anticipation  the  indomitable  and  in- 
eradicable fallacy  of  criticism  which  would  find  the  keynote 
of  Hamlet's  character  in  the  quality  of  irresolution.  I  may 
observe  at  once  that  the  misconception  involved  in  such  a 
reading  ought  to  have  been  evident  even  without  this  epi- 
sodical stroke  of  illustration.  In  any  case  it  should  be  plain 
to  any  reader  that  the  signal  characteristic  of  Hamlet's  in- 
most nature  is  by  no  means  irresolution  or  hesitation  or  any 
form  of  weakness,  but  rather  the  strong  conflux  of  contend- 
ing forces.  That  during  four  whole  acts  Hamlet  cannot  or 
does  not  make  up  his  mind  to  any  direct  and  deliberate  ac- 
tion against  his  uncle  is  true  enough :  true  also  we  may  say 
that  Hamlet  had  somewhat  more  of  mind  than  another  man 
to  make  up  and  might  properly  want  more  time  than  another 
man  to  do  it  in ;  but  not,  I  venture  to  say,  in  spite  of  Goethe, 


THE  LATER  NINETEENTH  CENTURY     267 

through  innate  inadequacy  to  his  task  and  unconquerable 
weakness  of  the  will ;  not,  I  venture  to  think,  in  spite  of 
Hugo,  through  immedicable  scepticism  of  the  spirit  and 
irremediable  propensity  to  nebulous  intellectual  refinement. 

Mr.  Swinburne  proves  his  point,  admitted  now  by 
the  best  critics,  by  the  fact  that  the  changes  from  the 
imperfect  first  quarto  to  the  final  form,  including  the 
great  soliloquy  on  irresolution,  —  not  in  the  folio,  — do 
not  improve  the  play  for  the  stage,  —  already  too  long, 
—  but  do  tend  to  lessen  the  impression  that  Hamlet's 
will-power  was  impaired,*  —  in  fact,  tend  to  establish 
the  contrary.  In  speaking  of  lago,  Mr.  Swinburne 
gives  countenance  to,  if  he  does  not  originate,  a  view 
which  is  accepted  in  a  more  or  less  modified  form  by 
the  best  modern  critics.  He  credits  it  to  Thomas  Car- 
lyle,  who  drew  the  suggestion  from  the  Germans,  the 
objects  of  Mr.  Swinburne's  abhorrence.  It  rests  on  a 
supposed  analogy  between  the  criminal  and  the  artist:  — 

Malignant  as  he  is,  the  very  subtlest  and  strongest  compo- 
nent of  his  complex  nature  is  not  even  malignity.  It  is  the 
instinct  of  what  Mr.  Carlyle  would  call  an  inarticulate  poet. 
In  his  immortal  study  on  the  *  affair  of  the  Diamond  Neck- 
lace '  the  most  profound  and  potent  humorist  of  the  century 
has  unwittingly  touched  on  the  mainspring  of  lago's  charac- 
ter—  the  *very  pulse  of  the  machine.*  He  describes  his 
Circe  de  la  Mothe-Valois  as  a  practical  dramatic  poet,  or 
playwright  at  least,  in  lieu  of  play-writer :  while  indicating 
why  and  wherefore,  with  all  her  constructive  skill  and 
rhythmic  art  in  action,  such  genius  as  she  has  so  differs  from 

^  I  once  said  to  a  working^an  who  sat  next  me  and  wit- 
nessed the  play  for  the  first  time,  *  Hamlet  was  a  great  fool,  don't 
you  think  ?  '  He  answered  with  conviction,  *  Well,  I  don't  know. 
He  was  certainly  up  against  it  for  good.*  This,  in  the  vernacular, 
is  the  substance  of  Mr.  Swinburne's  criticism.  The  difficulty  is  to 
say  just  what  moral  impasse  Hamlet  is  *  up  against.' 


268        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

the  genius  of  Shakespeare  that  she  undeniably  could  not 
have  written  a  Hamlet  Neither  could  lago  have  written  an 
Othello.  .  .  .  But  what  he  can  do  he  will :  and  if  it  be  bet- 
ter to  make  a  tragedy  than  to  write  one,  to  act  a  poem  than 
to  sing  it,  we  must  allow  lago  a  station  in  the  hierarchy  of 
poets  very  far  in  advance  of  his  creator. 

The  analogy  between  the  impulse  of  the  poet  to 
embody  a  story  in  beautiful  form  and  the  impulse  of 
the  malevolent  criminal  to  act  out  his  nature,  is  cer- 
tainly an  inverted  one.  Carlyle's  great  story  is  humor- 
ous and  ironic.  His  idea  that  the  '  two  fixed  ideas  must 
meet,'  that  the  French  thief  and  the  Italian  quack  are 
drawn  to  each  other  from  a  distance  by  wicked  sym- 
pathy, is  wonderfully  striking,  and  is  not  so  far  from 
the  reality  of  things,  for  the  wicked  do  troop  together. 
To  put  the  creative  artistic  impulse  on  the  same  plane 
as  the  greed  and  lack  of  human  sympathy  that  actuates 
the  criminal,  throws  a  lurid  light  on  human  nature  by 
the  power  of  contrast.  But  to  assume  that  they  are 
energies  of  the  same  character  sinks  all  moral  distinc- 
tions. The  deification  of  the  voluptuous  and  of  the  phys- 
ical perfection  of  the  human  body,  the  obliteration  of 
the  line  between  spiritual  and  sensual  beauty,  —  all 
rest  on  this  same  confusion  of  thought,  which  results, 
when  carried  to  its  legitimate  end,  in  shocking  and  un- 
natural perversions,  as  all  moral  confusion  must.  The 
idea  that  lago  is  a  creative  artist  in  evil,  who  takes  to 
his  work  from  pure  enjoyment  in  malevolent  action 
and  makes  a  tragedy  with  the  same  zest  with  which 
Shakespeare  writes  one,  has  been  sanctioned  by  some 
of  the  best  critics  of  our  day.  Even  Dr.  Bradley,  after 
specifying  the  more  obvious  springs  of  lago's  action, 
says : — 

But  lago  finally  is  not  simply  a  man  of  action,  he  is  an 
artbt  His  action  is  a  plot,  the  intricate  plot  of  a  drama,  and 


THE  LATER  NINETEENTH  CENTURY     269 

in  the  conception  and  execution  he  experiences  the  tension 
and  the  joy  of  artistic  creation. 

But  has  this  explanation  any  foundation  in  human 
nature  as  we  see  it  and  know  it,  and  is  it  not  destruct- 
ive of  any  just  philosophy  of  good  and  evil  ?  Similar 
views  were  taken  up  and  widely  extended  by  the  Pre- 
Raphaelites  and  their  French  prototypes,  and  result  in 
no  permanent  addition  to  human  thought.  It  certainly 
does  not  explain  Macbeth,  in  whom  the  imaginative 
power  was  far  more  developed  than  in  lago.  But  in- 
verted comparisons  of  this  sort  taken  as  humor  are 
wonderfully  suggestive;  witness  Carlyle's  Diamond 
NecTddce^  which  is  as  clearly  ironical  as  De  Quincey's 
Murder  Considered  as  One  of  the  Fine  Arts  is  farci- 
cal, lago  as  evidently  takes  pleasure  in  gratifying  his 
sense  of  power  as  does  the  ordinary  scandal-monger  in 
making  mischief.  But  the  delight  of  the  artist  is  in 
producing  something  beautiful,  —  is  disinterested  and 
fed  from  springs  of  sympathy.  The  pleasure  of  the 
inventor  or  scientific  investigator  or  of  the  artisan  is 
akin  to  this.  Their  activity  energizes  in  production. 
But  the  arch-plotters'  activity  is  dedicated  to  destruc- 
tion ;  and  though  there  may  be  a  diabolical  pleasure  in 
destruction,  it  is  in  no  way  akin  to  the  joy  of  creation. 

On  any  point  relating  to  the  author  as  poet  or  to  the 
plays  as  poetry,  Mr.  Swinburne  naturally  speaks  with 
an  authority  greater  than  that  of  any  one  since  Cole- 
ridge. He  is  familiar  with  all  Elizabethan  dramatic  lit- 
erature, —  a  familiarity  of  loving  appreciation,  not  of 
professional  study.  He  loves  Othello  and  Hamlet  as  if 
they  were  personal  friends,  perhaps  far  better  than  he 
would  had  they  conversed  with  him  in  the  flesh.  On  a 
technical  point  his  judgment  is  unerring,  for  he  knows 
good  verse  —  it  is  the  *  stuff  he  has  handled  *  for  fifty 
years.  He  well  says :  — 


270        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS   CRITICS 

Now,  all  tragic  poets,  I  presume  from  iEschylus,  the  god- 
like father  of  them  all,  to  the  last  aspirant  who  may  struggle 
after  the  traces  of  his  steps,  have  been  poets  before  they  were 
tragedians  ;  their  lips  have  had  power  to  sing  before  their  feet 
had  strength  to  tread  the  stage,  before  their  hands  had  skill 
to  paint  or  carve  figures  from  the  life.  With  Shakespeare  it 
was  so  as  certainly  as  with  Shelley,  as  evidently  as  with  Hugo. 
It  is  in  the  great  comic  poets,  in  Moli^re  as  in  Congreve,  our 
own  lesser  Moli^re,  so  far  inferior  in  breadth  and  depth,  in 
tenderness  and  in  strength,  to  the  'greatest  writer  of  the 
great  age,'  yet  so  near  him  in  science  and  in  skill,  so  like 
him  in  brilliance  and  in  force  —  it  is  in  these  that  we  find 
theatrical  instinct  twin-born  with  imaginative  impulse,  dra- 
matic power  with  inventive  perception. 

That  is  all  true  enough.  Young  men  can  write  love 
lyrics  and  comedies,  but  a  tragedy  is  a  'criticism  of  life ' ; 
and  to  criticise  life  intelligently  the  artist  must  have  en- 
dured it,  and  to  criticise  it  at  once  nobly  and  profoundly 
demands  the  breadth  of  perception  and  power  of  ex- 
pression we  call  genius. 

DB.  DCWDEN 

Professor  Edward  Dowden  of  Trinity  College,  Dub- 
lin, is  the  author  of  the  very  useful  manual,  A  Shak- 
spere  Primer^  in  which  is  condensed  all  the  evidence  as 
to  the  date  of  appearance  of  the  successive  plays,  exter- 
nal and  internal.  His  longer  book,  Shakspere^  His 
Mind  and  ArU  is  the  best  piece  of  sustained  liter- 
ary criticism  that  appeared  in  England  in  the  latter 
part  of  the  nineteenth  century.  It  is  very  attractively 
written,  and  has  been  very  generally  read  in  our  country 
in  the  third  edition,  which  came  out  in  1880.  The  first 
chapter  contains  an  examination  of  the  ethical  tone  of 
the  Elizabethan  period,  with  brief  references  to  Spenser 
and  Bacon  as  exponents  of  different  phases  of  the  spirit 


THE  LATER  NINETEENTH  CENTURY     271 

of  their  time,  and  a  consideration  of  Shakespeare  as  a 
product  of  his  age,  —  a  dramatic  poet  moulded  by  his 
environment.  The  governing  idea  of  the  book  is  the  de- 
velopment of  the  poet  in  thought  and  technical  skill,  as 
shown  by  the  progressive  characters  of  the  plays. 
One  editor  says  that  '  the  date  of  a  play  is  the  most 
trivial  question,  except  questions  on  Shakespeare's 
biography,  on  which  time  can  be  wasted.'  Considered 
as  a  bare  fact,  this  may  be  true,  —  the  date  is  of  lit- 
tle importance  compared  to  the  play,  —  but  as  re- 
lated to  the  growth  of  the  most  remarkable  mind  in 
the  annals  of  time,  the  date  becomes  an'  important 
fact  in  the  illustration  of  psychological  law,  and  Dr. 
Dowden  based  an  interesting  and  suggestive  book  on 
the  subject. 

The  question  of  the  chronological  order,  first  treated 
competently  by  Malone,  had,  when  he  wrote,  been 
settled  as  positively  as  it  ever  can  be,  and  the  labors 
of  Fleay  and  Furuivall  on  the  successive  changes  in 
style  and  the  relative  numbers  of  different  verse-forms 
from  Love's  Labour  s  Lost  to  Winter  s  Tale  had 
corroborated  the  evidence  from  other  sources,  and  the 
facts  were  ready  for  whatever  interpretation  they  would 
bear. 

Professor  Dowden  was  familiar  with  modern  Ger- 
man criticism,  and  this  led  him  to  imitate  in  some 
degree  the  fantastical  method  of  the  Germans,  and  to 
attribute  to  Shakespeare  a  conscious  effort  after  self- 
culture —  a  dedication  of  himself  to  artistic  improve- 
ment and  a  conscious  training  in  a  poetic  curriculum 
after  the  manner  of  Milton.  For  instance,  he  says :  — 

When  these  poems  were  written  [  Venus  and  Adonis  and 
Lucrece']  Shakspere  was  cautiously  feeling  his  way  (page 
46). 

Setting  aside  TitiLS  Andronicus  and  Marina^  four  drO' 


272        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

matic  experiments  by  Shakspere  remain,  each  in  a  differ- 
ent manner  from  the  rest  (page  49). 

During  the  years  in  which  the  poet  was  experimenting  on 
history,  comedy,  and  farce,  that  about  which  he  was  most  of 
all  secretly  concerned  was  a  tragedy  {Romeo  and  Juliet) 
(page  50). 

Shakspere,  when  he  had  completed  his  English  historical 
plays,  needed  rest  for  his  imagination,  and  in  such  a  mood, 
craving  refreshment  and  recreation,  he  wrote  his  play  of  As 
You  Like  It  (page  67).^ 

Now,  when  writing  Hamlet,  his  second  tragedy,  Shak- 
spere, we  must  needs  believe,  determined  that  he  would  break 
away  from  the  influence  of  his  first  tragedy,  Romeo  and  Juliet 
(page  88). 

We  shall  rather  think  of  him  [Shakespeare]  as  a  man  pos- 
sessing immense  potential  strength,  but  aware  of  certain  weak- 
nesses of  his  own  nature :  resolved  therefore  to  be  stern  with 
himself  and  to  master  those  weaknesses ;  resolved  to  realize 
all  that  potential  strength  which  lay  within  him  (page  146). 

But  having  in  Macbeth  studied  the  ruin  of  a  nature  which 
gave  fair  promise  in  men's  eyes  of  greatness  and  nobility, 
Shakspere,  it  may  be,  proceeded  directly  to  a  similar  study 
in  Antony  (page  248). 

Shakspere's  admiration  of  the  great  men  of  action  is  im- 
mense, because  he  himself  was  primarily  not  a  man  of  action. 
He  is  stern  to  all  idealists,  because  he  was  aware  that  he  might 
too  easily  yield  himself  to  the  tendencies  of  an  idealist  (page 
250). 

Citations  similar  to  the  above,  implying  that  Shake- 
speare consciously  trained  his  powers,  and  '  meant  to 
teach  *  us  something,  might  be  multiplied,  and  all  imply 
an  erroneous  conception.  We  know  that  Shakespeare 
was  a  poet,  and  we  have  a  right  to  infer  that  in  common 
with  all  poets  he  experienced  the  rapture  of  creation 

^  Is  there  not  more  imaginative  work  in  As  You  Like  It  than  in 
Hewy  Vt 


THE  LATER  NINETEENTH  CENTURY     273 

and  tlie  supreme  content  which  follows  the  production 
of  something  beautiful.  We  know,  too,  from  the  plays 
themselves,  that  as  he  increased  in  years  he  increased 
in  favor  with  the  muses,  that  when  he  was  young  he 
wrote  on  young  men's  subjects  in  a  young  man's  manner, 
and  that  maturity  brought  strength,  and  practice,  ease. 
But  to  say  that  he  consciously  went  through  a  poetio 
education  and  reserved  himself  for  profound  subjects 
till  he  thought  he  was  strong  enough  for  them,  is  mere 
guesswork.  We  can  see  from  the  volume  of  the  plays 
that  he  was  very  industrious,  a  wonderful  observer,  and 
a  great  reader,  for  one  cannot  acquire  a  knowledge  of 
classic  mythology  without  reading.  As  far  as  we  know, 
he  regarded  his  plays  merely  as  drawing  cards  for  the 
theatre,  and  took  no  more  interest  in  them  after  they 
were  staged  than  a  brilliant  editorial  writer  does  in  last 
year's  articles.  His  plays  were  apparently  written  for 
the  company,  and  without  the  slightest  reference  to 
posterity.  In  the  sonnets  he  discloses  his  belief  that 
good  poetry  is  a  legacy  to  the  world,  but  not  in  the 
plays.  In  a  word,  as  far  as  we  know,  they  were  strictly 
professional  work,  and  so  regarded  by  their  author.  This 
may  be  wrong,  but  there  is  no  evidence  to  the  contrary, 
and  criticism  must  be  based  on  what  Professor  Dowden 
calls  a  'firm  grasp  of  fact,'  and  not  on  theories.  But  the 
theories  are  well  put  and  interesting,  and  even  if  not 
accepted  in  their  entirety  give  us  an  idea  of  the  differ- 
ence between  the  earlier  and  the  later  work  of  a  poet. 

Dr.  Dowden's  analysis  of  the  characters  is  lifelike, 
and  embodies  the  results  of  the  best  modern  thought 
on  the  subject,  English  and  German.  He  says  of  Ophe- 
lia, with  truth :  — 

She  is  a  tender,  fragile,  little  soul  who  might  have  grown 
to  her  slight  perfection  in  some  neat  garden-plot  of  life.  Ham- 
let falls  into  the  too  frequent  error  of  supposing  that  a  man 


274        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

gains  rest  and  composure  through  the  presence  of  a  nature 
weak,  gentle,  and  clinging ;  and  that  the  very  incapacity  of 
such  a  nature  to  share  the  troubles  of  heart  and  brain  which 
beset  one  must  be  a  source  of  refreshment  and  repose.  .  .  . 
There  is  an  exchange  of  little  tokens  between  the  lovers,  but 
of  the  large  exchange  of  soul  there  is  none  ;  and  Hamlet  in 
his  bitter  mood  can  truthfully  exclaim,  *  I  never  gave  you 
aught.' 

But  Hamlet  fell  in  love  with  her  during  his  father's 
life,  when  he  felt  no  need  of  *  rest  and  composure.' 

Dr.  Dowden  points  out  that,  as  soon  as  Ophelia  brings 
out  the  casket  of  his  gifts,  Hamlet  perceives  that  she 
had  come  to  the  palace  oratory  on  purpose,  and  most 
likely  had  been  sent.  He  longs  for  sincerity,  but '  Ophe- 
lia is  joined  with  the  rest  of  them ;  she  is  an  impostor, 
a  spy,  incapable  of  truth,  of  honor,  of  love.'  In  his  es- 
timate of  the  character  of  Hamlet  Dr.  Dowden  follows 
in  the  main  the  Goethe-Schlegel-Coleridge  theory  of 
exaggerated  reflective  powers  and  weak  will,  but  adds : 

But  Hamlet  is  not  merely  or  chiefly  intellectual ;  the  emo- 
tional side  of  his  nature  is  quite  as  important  as  the  intellec- 
tual ;  his  malady  is  as  deep-seated  in  his  sensibilities  and  in 
his  heart  as  it  is  in  his  brain.  If  all  his  feelings  translate  them- 
selves into  thoughts,  it  is  no  less  true  that  all  his  thoughts  are 
impregnated  with  feelings.  To  represent  Hamlet  as  a  man  of 
preponderating  power  of  reflection  and  to  disregard  his  crav- 
ing, sensitive  heart,  is  to  make  the  whole  play  incoherent  and 
unintelligible. 

It  is  very  evident  that  Hamlet  is  of  an  affectionate 
nature  and  that  he  is  predisposed  to  intellectual  subtle- 
ties. But  the  question  is,  why  does  he  stand  paralyzed 
before  a  certain  deed  the  performance  of  which  is  im- 
posed on  him  by  the  highest  authority  and  sanctioned 
by  deep-seated  instinct  of  duty  ?  He  is  evidently  a  hu- 


THE  LATER  NINETEENTH  CENTURY     275 

man  type.  Can  we  point  to  any  men  of  his  type  in  the 
world  ?  Dr.  Dowden  does  not  attempt  to  explain  Ham« 
let,  but  he  describes  him  and  his  actions  admirably. 

The  critic  closes  his  paper  by  saying,  '  One  thing, 
however,  we  do  know  —  that  the  man  who  wrote  the 
play  of  Hamlet  had  obtained  a  thorough  comprehension 
of  Hamlet's  malady.'  Is  this  altogether  certain  ?  May 
not  the  artist  create  something  greater  than  himself, 
something  about  which  lingers  the  mystery  of  life  ?  It 
is  certainly  so  with  musicians  and  painters,  why  not 
with  poets,  too  ?  Do  they  not  sometimes  '  build  better 
than  they  know'?  Hamlet  did  not  understand  himself. 
Is  it  certain  that  his  creator  understood  him  ? 

Dr.  Dowden  treats  with  sense  and  ability  a  question 
which  in  the  latter  part  of  the  nineteenth  century 
began  to  vex  the  souls  of  many  worthy  radicals,  that 
is,  did  Shakespeare  feel  the  true  aristocrat's  disdain  for 
the  lower  orders  ?  As  the  point  is  comparatively  mod- 
ern, the  passage  is  given  at  length :  — 

Shakspere,  a  great  modem  poet  (Walt  Whitman)  has 
said,  *  is  incarnated,  uncompromising  feudalism  in  literature.* 
Shakspere  is  surely  something  more  human  and  permanent 
than  feudalism  ;  but  it  is  true  he  is  not  in  the  modern  sense 
democratic.  That  he  recognized  the  manly  worth  and  vigor 
of  the  English  people  is  evident.  It  cannot  be  denied,  how- 
ever, that  when  the  people  are  seen  in  masses  in  Shakspere's 
plays,  they  are  nearly  always  shown  as  factious,  fickle,  and 
irrational.  To  explain  this  fact  we  need  not  suppose  that 
Shakspere  wrote  to  flatter  the  prejudice  of  the  jeunesse 
dorSe  of  the  Elizabethan  period.  How  could  Shakspere 
represent  the  people  otherwise?  In  the  Tudor  period  the 
people  had  not  yet  emerged.  The  people,  like  Milton's  half- 
created  animals,  is  still  pawing  to  get  free  its  hinder  parts 
from  the  mire.  The  mediaeval  attempts  to  resist  oppression, 
the  risings  of  peasants  or  of  citizens,  inaugurated  commonly 


276        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

by  the  murder  of  a  lord  or  of  a  bishop,  were  for  the  most 
part  desperate  attempts,  rash  and  dangerous,  sustained  by- 
no  sense  of  adequate  moral  or  material  power.  It  is  only 
after  such  an  immense  achievement  as  that  of  1784,  such  a 
proof  of  power  as  the  French  Revolution  afforded,  that 
moral  dignity,  the  spirit  of  self-control  and  self-denial,  the 
heroic  devotion  of  masses  of  men  to  ideas  and  not  merely 
interests,  could  begin  to  manifest  themselves.  Shakspere 
studied  and  represented  in  his  art  the  world  which  lay  before 
him.  If  he  prophesied  the  future,  it  was  not  in  the  ordinary 
manner  of  prophets,  but  only  by  completely  embodying  the 
present,  in  which  the  future  was  contained. 

Dr.  Dowden's  book  is  full  of  contagious  enthusiasm 
for  the  plays,  and  is  one  of  the  best  books,  if  not  the 
best,  a  young  student  can  read. 

TOLSTOY 

There  had  been  no  systematic  belittling  of  Shake- 
speare since  Voltaire's  diatribe  in  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury till  the  Russian,  Count  Tolstoy,  published  a.  Critical 
Essay  on  Shakespeare  in  1901,  which  was  prompted 
by  an  article  on  the  poet's  attitude  towards  the  work- 
ing classes  by  Mr.  Ernest  Crosby  of  New  York.  Any- 
thing that  comes  from  the  author  of  Anna  Karenina 
and  War  and  Peace  is  entitled  to  consideration,  even 
though  it  proves  that  a  great  artist  may  be  entirely 
lacking  in  critical  faculty.  He  declares  that  he  has 
'  read  Shakespeare  in  every  possible  form  ;  in  Russian, 
in  English,  in  German,  and  in  Schlegel's  translation,' 
and  'invariably  underwent  the  same  feelings:  repul- 
sion, weariness,  and  bewilderment.'  '  At  the  age  of 
seventy-five,  being  desirous  once  more  to  test  myself,* 
he  says,  '  I  have  again  read  the  whole  of  Shakespeare 
and  have  felt  with  even  greater  force  the  same  feelings 
—  this  time,  however,  not  of  bewilderment  but  of  firm 


THE  LATER  NINETEENTH  CENTURY     277 

indubitable  conviction  that  the  unquestionable  glory  of 
a  great  genius  which  Shakespeare  enjoys  is  a  great  evil, 
as  is  every  untruth.' 

He  takes  King  Lear  as  the  play  which  is  regarded  as 
the  finest  production  of  the  poet,  and  rehearses  the  plot 
in  realistic  language.  Of  course  it  is  impossible  to  para- 
phrase any  romantic  tale  in  this  manner  without 
making  it  seem  absurd;  the  sublime  is  easily  made 
ridiculous  by  bad  acting  or  a  change  of  words.  He 
says: — 

Any  man  not  under  (hypnotic  suggestion  must  be  con- 
vinced that  it  is  a  very  bad,  carelessly  composed  production, 
which,  if  it  could  have  been  of  interest  to  the  public  at  a 
certain  time,  cannot  evoke  among  us  anything  but  aversion 
and  weariness.  Every  reader  of  our  time  who  is  free  from 
the  influence  of  suggestion  will  also  receive  exactly  the  same  / 
impression  from  all  the  other  extolled  dramas  of  Shakespeare, 
not  to  mention  the  senseless  dramatized  tales,  —  Pericles, 
Twelfth  Night,  The  Tempest,  Cymbeline,  and  Troilus 
and  Cressida, 

Classing  the  above  plays  together  is  something  that 
Voltaire  in  his  most  venomous  mood  would  never  have 
done^^  because  he  would  have  known  that  it  would 
destroy  his  claim,  not  only  to  critical  acumen,  but  to  the 
simplest  comprehension  of  dramatic  arL^To  attribute 
the  admiration  of  Shakespeare  to  *  suggestion '  is  an 
extraordinary  thing.  Undoubtedly  there  have  been  { 
such  things  as  popular  delusions,  when  the  judgment 
of  numbers  of  people  is  in  abeyance,  as  in  the  Children's 
Crusade  or  the  excitement  over  witchcraft  in  the  sev- 
enteenth century,  but  the  very  essence  of  such  a  delu- 
sion is  that  it  is  temporary  and  followed  by  a  reaction. 
/;^he  world  is  not  always  crazy.  .  A  delusion  of  all 
the  world  for  three  centuries  is  impossiblcy  Count  Tol- 


278        SHAKESPEARE  AND   HIS   CRITICS 

stoy  uses  scientific  terms,  as  'development*  and  'germ,' 
in  War  and  Peace,  in  the  same  uncomprehending 
manner. 

The  critic  seems  destitute  of  historic  knowledge,  for 
he  says : — 

It  often  happens  that  even  during  these  ohviously  inten- 
tional efforts  after  effect,  as,  for  instance,  the  dragging  out 
by  the- legs  of  half  a  dozen  ijorpses,  with  which  all  Shake- 
speare's tragedies  terminateUnstead  of  feeling  fear  and  pity 
one  is  tempted  rather  to  laugh.y^ 

The  most  elementary  knowledge  of  the  Elizabethan 
stage  would  inform  him  that  after  a  fight,  in  the  ab- 
sence of  curtain,  it  was  necessary  to  '  drag  off  the  body/ 

He  writes  :  <J^A11  his  characters  speak  not  their  own 
but  always  one  and  the  same  Shakespearean  preten- 
tious and  unnatural  language,  in  which  not  only  they 
could  not  speak,  but  m  which  no  living  man  ever  had 
spoken  or  does  speak.'> 

If  he  means  by  that  that  they  sometimes  speak  blank 
verse,  he  is  correct,  for  the  plays  are  poetry,  and  the 
Greeks  discovered  long  ago  that  rhythmical  language 
conveyed  emotion  as  does  no  other  form.  The  critic 
says  that  the  characters  alV' suffer  from  a  common 
intemperance  of  language.'  'They  speak  all  alike.  Lear 
raves  exactly  as  does  Edgar  when  feigning  madness. 
Both  Kent  and  the  fool  speak  alike.^> 

There  must  be  a  mistranslation  tere,  unless  Russians 

jl  use  the  same  word  for  'alike'  and  'different.'  But  the 

1 1  critic  goes  on  to  astonish  us  still  further  when  he  says 

I  that/in  Shakespeare  there  is  no  expression  of  character^* 

i  and  tnktc  ^is  characters  are  mostly  depicted,  not  by  the 

dramatic  inethod,  which  consists  in  making  each  person 

speak  with  his  own  diction,  but  in  the  epic  niethod  of 

one  person  describing  the  features  of  another,'/^  state- 


\ 


THE   LATER  NINETEENTH   CENTURY     279 

ment  directly  contrary  to  the  fact,  as  any  one  who  needs 
to  be  convinced  can  easily  assure  himself  by  reading 
the  first  act  of  Hamlet  or  Macbeth,  The  critic,  however, 
is  consistent ;  for  he  says  that  the  originals,  the  old  play 
of  XeiV,  the  Hystorie  of  Hamhlet^  and  the  story  of  the 
Moot  and  the  Wicked  Ensign^  which  no  one  reads  by 
choice,  are  more   interesting,  more  natural,  than  the 
plays  founded  on  them.  After  this  we  are  not  surprised 
to  hear  that  *  Emilia  has  not  even  the  slightest  sem-    \ 
blance  to  a  real  character.'  In  fact,  we  are  rudderless      ^ 
in  a  sea  of  unfounded  assertion  and  impossible  explana- 
tions. Falstaff  is,  however,  too  much  for  him,  and  is,\ 
he  declares,  ^perhaps  the  only  natural  and  typical  char-  J 
acter  depicted  by  Shakespeare!/' Hamlet  is  too  much^ 
for  him  in   another  way;   for  he  declares,   'There  is 
no  possibility  of  finding  any  explanation  whatever  of 
Hamlet's  actions  or  words,  and  therefore  no  possibil- 
ity of  attributing  any  character  to  him.'  Some  persons 
might  reasonably  think  that  'there  is  no  possibility  of 
finding  any  explanation  whatever '  of  Count  Tolstoy's 
words. 

It  is  inexplicable  that  a  writer  of  novels  should  not 
perceive  the  naturalness  of  the  conversation  in  Shake- 
speare's dramas  and  the  individual  character  of  their 
utterances,  extending  even  to  little  peculiarities  of  man- 
ner and  tricks  of  expression.  Macbeth  never  swears  nor 
puns.  Hamlet  has  an  odd  way  of  reduplicating  his 
words,  and  there  is  a  soldier-like  heartiness  in  Othello's 
speeches  before  he  is  overcome  by  mental  distress,  and 
at  all  times  a  poetic  coloring  quite  different  from  that 
with  which  Macbeth,  Hamlet,  and  Lear  invest  their 
thoughts.  The  speeches  come  from  a  mental  point  of 
view,  and  are  the  result  of  a  mental  operation  sometimes 
very  difficult  to  follow.  Like  real  people  the  characters 
sometimes  say  unexpected  things,  which  strike  us  as 


280        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

inconsequent  till  we  know  the  persons  better.  The  con- 
versation, too,  is  frequently  absolutely  natural:  — 

Ham.  Indeed,  indeed,  sirs,  but  this  troubles  me. 

Hold  you  the  watch  to-night  ? 
Mar.  Ber.  We  do,  my  lord. 

Ham.  Arm'd,  say  you  ? 
Mar.  Ber.  Arm'd,  my  lord. 

Ham.  From  top  to  toe? 

Mar.  Ber.  My  lord,  from  head  to  foot 
Ham.  Then  saw  you  not  his  face  ? 
Hot.  Oh  yes,  my  lord,  he  wore  his  beaver  up. 

Hamlet  asks  a  few  more  eager  questions  about  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  ghost,  and  then  follows  this  dialogue : 

Ham.  I  would  I  had  been  there. 

Hor.  It  would  have  much  amazed  you. 
Ham.   Very  like,  very  like.  Stay'd  it  long  ? 

Is  there  any  other  person  in  the  plays  who  would 
have  interjected  that  singular  remark,  'Very  like,  very 
like '  ?  Imagine  Macbeth  using  the  words  in  similar  cir- 
cumstances !  It  is  out  of  the  question.  But  from  Ham- 
let they  seem  so  appropriate  that  we  hardly  notice  their 
unique  oddity. 

Not  only  is  the  conversation  of  Shakespeare's  char- 
acters absolutely  natural  and  the  outcome  of  their 
personalities,  but  the  speakers  rarely  address  the  audi- 
ence, or  say  anything  for  the  sake  of  effect.  They  talk 
to  each  other.  Even  their  soliloquies  are  self -commun- 
ings,—  mental  disclosures,  —  not  addresses  to  the  audi- 
ence. But  when  we  consider  such  dialogue  as  the  scene 
between  Brutus  and  Cassius  (^Julius  CcBsar)  or  the 
angry  parle  between  Kent  and  Lear,  where  the  words 
come  hot  from  the  heart,  and  especially  when  we  notice 
the  contrast  between  Kent's  defiance  of  his  liege  and 
his  farewell :  — 


THE  LATER  NINETEENTH  CENTURY     281 

Thus  Kent,  O  princes,  bids  you  all  adieu ; 

He  '11  shape  his  old  course  in  a  country  new,  — 

which  is  plainly  addressed  to  the  audience,  we  cannot 
understand  how  any  novelist  could  fail  to  mark  that  the 
speeches  of  Shakespeare's  characters  are  essentially 
dramatic  and  individual.  Indeed,  this  was  the  point 
remarked  on  by  the  earliest  and  most  superficial  criti- 
cism. 

Count  Tolstoy  attributes  the  reputation  for  depicting 
character  which  Shakespeare  possesses  to  a  little  matter 
of  technical  skill  easily  acquired  by  an  intelligent  play- 
wright, in  which  several  of  his  contemporaries  equaled 
him. 

However  unnatural  the  positions  may  be  in  which  he  places 
his  characters,  however  improper  to  them  the  language  which 
he  makes  them  speak,  however  featureless  they  are,  the  very 
play  of  emotion,  its  increase  and  alteration,  and  the  combina- 
tion of  many  contrary  feelings,  as  expressed  correctly  and 
powerfully  in  some  of  Shakespeare's  scenes  and  in  the  play 
of  good  actors,  evokes,  even  if  only  for  a  time,  sympathy  with 
the  persons  represented.  Shakespeare,  himself  an  actor  and 
an  intelligent  man,  knew  how  to  express  by  the  means  not 
only  of  speech  but  of  exclamation,  gesture,  and  the  repetition 
of  words,  states  of  mind  and  developments  or  changes  of  feel- 
ing taking  place  in  persons  represented.  So  that  in  many  in- 
stances Shakespeare's  characters,  instead  of  speaking,  merely 
make  an  exclamation  or  weep,  or  in  the  middle  of  a  mono- 
logue, by  means  of  gestures  demonstrate  the  pain  of  their 
position  (just  as  Lear  asks  somebody  to  unbutton  him)  or  in 
moments  of  great  agitation,  repeat  a  question  several  times 
or  several  times  demand  the  repetition  of  a  word  which  has 
particularly  struck  them,  as  do  Othello,  Macduff,  Cleopatra, 
and  others.  Such  clever  methods  of  expressing  the  develop- 
ment of  feeling,  giving  good  actors  the  possibility  of  demon- 
strating their  powers,  were,  and  are,  often  mistaken  by  many 


282        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

"^critics  for  the  expression  of  character.  But  however  strongly 
the  play  of  feeling  may  be  expressed  in  one  scene,  a  single 
scene  cannot  give  the  character  of  a  jBgure  when  this  figure, 
after  a  correct  exclamation  or  gesture,  begins  in  a  language 
not  its  own,  at  the  author's  arbitrary  will,  to  volubly  utter 
words  which  are  neither  necessary  nor  in  harmony  with  its 
character. 

Had  the  critic  cited  passages  in  support  of  his  posi- 
tion, we  might  have  been  able  to  tell  what  he  means.  He 
seems  to  be  exalting  technical  skill  in  writing  emotional 
scenes  for  the  actors,  but  says  that  Shakespeare  fol- 
lowed them  by  unnatural  language.  The  only  place  that 
occurs  to  us  where  the  criticism  applies,  is  Kent's 
rhymed  soliloquy  after  his  quarrel  with  Lear  just  re- 
ferred to.  The  writing  of  passionate  or  emotional  scenes 
is,  of  course,  great  art. 

The  critic  also  says  that  Shakespeare  is  destitute  of 
the  '  sense  of  measure,'  meaning  apparently  reserve  or 
moderation. 

In  Shakespeare  everything  is  exaggerated ;  the  actions  are 
exaggerated,  so  are  their  consequences ;  the  speeches  of  the 
characters  are  exaggerated,  and  therefore  at  every  step  the 
possibility  of  artistic  impression  is  interfered  with.  Whatever 
people  may  say,  however  they  may  be  enraptured  by  Shake- 
speare's works,  whatever  merits  they  may  attribute  to  them, 
it  is  perfectly  certain  that  he  was  not  an  artist,  and  that  his 
works  are  not  artistic  productions.  Without  the  sense  of 
measure  there  never  was  nor  can  be  an  artist,  as  without  the 
feeling  of  rhythm  there  cannot  be  a  musician.  Shakespeare 
might  have  been  whatever  you  like,  but  he  was  not  an  artist. 

Shakespeare's  tragedies,  except  Hamlet^  deal  with 
the  explosive  expression  of  violent  emotions  by  powerful 
natures.  They  are  destitute  of  the  restrained  dignity  of 
classic  art.  This  is  because  he  was  a  Teuton  expressing 


THE  LATER  NINETEENTH   CENTURY     283 

in  the  Teutonic  manner  the  vigorous  Teutonic  nature, 
which  'gives  itself  away'  in  moments  of  great  ex- 
citement. There  are  passages  in  the  tragedies  which 
Pericles  or  Virgil  would  have  considered  extravagant, 
and  there  are  passages  which  even  we,  to  the  manner 
born,  would  prefer  to  have  toned  down  nearer  to  the 
dignity  of  Corneille.  There  is  one  kind  of  artistic 
power  in  the  suggestion  of  emotion  restrained  by  a 
sense  of  measure,  and  another  kind  in  the  stormy  out- 
bursts of  Lear  or  Othello.  It  is  singular  that  the  race 
whose  everyday  expression  is  grave  and  unemphatic 
should  originate  the  violent  method  of  dramatic  ex- 
pression, and  the  lively,  gesticulating  Latin  people 
should  represent  the  distress  of  great  natures  with  the 
decorum  and  reserve  of  the  high  Roman  fashion.  But 
to  admit  that  there  are  places  where  Shakespeare's  re- 
dundant excitement  might  be  tempered,  and  the  effect 
be  as  powerful  and  more  agreeable,  does  not  concede 
that  the  Teutonic  way  of  telling  a  story  is  radically  bad 
art  compared  to  the  Greek  way.  At  least  the  former 
does  not  degenerate  into  a  stiff  formalism,  in  its  worst. 
In  Titus  Andronicus,  or  the  tragedies  of  Webster,  it  is 
repulsive,  but  not  tiresome. 

Count  Tolstoy  declares :  — 

Until  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century  Shakespeare  not 
only  failed  to  gain  any  special  fame  in  England  but  was 
valued  less  than  his  contemporary  dramatists,  Ben  Jonson, 
Fletcher,  Beaumont,  and  others.  [Who  were  the  others, 
besides  Massinger  ?]  His  fame  originated  in  Germany  and 
thence  was  transferred  to  England. 

That  this  is  historically  incorrect  must  be  evident  to 
any  one  with  even  a  superficial  knowledge  of  literary 
history.  Shakespeare's  reputation  has  gone  through 
phases  of  interpretation,  but  not  of  magnitude,  since 


284        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS   CRITICS 

his  death  in  the  seventeenth  century.  It  was  only  dur- 
ing a  short  period  in  the  seventeenth  century  that  other 
Elizabethan  playwrights  were  valued  more  than  he, 
and  then  only  by  playgoers,  not  by  the  literary  pub- 
lic. German  criticism  of  the  early  nineteenth  cen- 
tury was  no  doubt  gratifying  to  Englishmen,  but  the 
criticism  of  Coleridge,  Lamb,  Hazlitt,  and  De  Quincey 
had  far  more  to  do  with  establishing  a  philosophical 
basis  for  the  dramatist's  fame  than  anything  Goethe, 
Lessing,  Schlegel,  and  Schiller  could  say.  In  fact  there 
has  always  been  a  disposition  to  laugh  at  German  criti- 
cism, except  among  the  best  critics,  and  even  they  re- 
ject much  of  the  commentary  of  continental  scholars. 
The  idea  that  a  nation  waits  till  foreigners  discover 
their  national  poet  and  then  sustains  the  foreign  verdict, 
if  ever  true,  is  certainly  not  so  in  the  case  of  WiUiam 
Shakespeare. 

The  critic  finds  fault  with  the  Shakespearean  tragedy 
because  his  plays  do  not  embody  a  religious  motif. 
Originally  dramatic  art  and  government  were  closely 
connected  with  religion.  Time  has  shown  clearly  that 
the  government  and  religion  should  not  be  in  the  hands 
of  the  same  persons,  and  large  provinces  of  life  have 
developed  in  the  Christian  era  and  become  the  proper 
subject  of  dramatic  art.  Shakespeare  might  have  made 
a  powerful  play  turning  on  religious  martyrdom.  Why 
he  did  not,  we  cannot  tell ;  perhaps  the  censor  who  at 
one  time  would  not  allow  the  name  of  God  to  be  spoken 
on  the  stage  would  not  license  anything  that  might  stir 
up  religious  animosity,  perhaps  Shakespeare  regarded 
all  religious  disputes  as  sectarian.  When  he  adapted 
King  John  he  struck  out  everything  appealing  to  reli- 
gious prejudice,  as  well  as  the  vulgar  matter  satirizing 
the  Catholics.  But  his  plays  represent  the  world  as  it 
is,  and  are  therefore  essentially  moral.  They  show  the 


THE   LATER  NINETEENTH   CENTURY      285 

evil  which  results  from  violation  of  the  primitive  ties 
of  loyalty,  love,  friendship,  or  family  affection.  They 
attribute  a  holy  and  sacred  nature  to  chastity  and 
honor.  They  teach  as  life  teaches,  for  they  select  from 
life  what  is  most  impressive  of  reality,  and  that  is  all 
the  secular  drama  can  do.  Count  Tolstoy  affirms,  *  That 
man  alone  can  write  a  drama  who  has  something  to  say 
to  men,  and  something  which  is  of  the  greatest  import- 
ance to  them;  about  man's  relation  to  God,  to  the 
Universe,  to  the  All,  the  Eternal,  the  Infinite.'  That 
might  be  true  of  the  twelfth  century,  but  the  Eliza- 
bethan drama  has  to  do  with  man's  relation  to  men. 
If  this  is  misrepresented,  secular  art  may  be  immoral ; 
if  it  is  represented  with  truth  and  referred  to  the 
proper  principles,  the  drama  is  moral  and  cannot  be 
irreligious.  A  novel  may  turn  on  religious  emotion, 
as  Robert  Elsmere  does,  but  Anna  Karenina  is  a  bet- 
ter moral  lesson  than  Robert  Elsmere^  and  it  is  as  de- 
void of  the  religious  element  as  Macbeth  or  Lear,  The 
day  of  the  Passion  Play  or  the  liturgical  play  has  long 
passed,  and  had  passed  when  Shakespeare  wrote. 

Count  Tolstoy's  critique  is  printed  as  a  preface  to  an 
article  on  *  Shakespeare's  Attitude  towards  the  Work- 
ing Classes '  by  Mr.  Ernest  Crosby,  though  the  latter 
occupies  less  than  one  third  of  the  book;  and  it  is 
quite  evident  that  the  animus  of  Tolstoy's  animad- 
versions comes  from  a  feeling  that  Shakespeare  was 
aristocratic  in  his  sympathies  and  not  disposed  to  do 
justice  to  laboring  men,  whose  cause  the  Russian  writer 
has  so  passionately  espoused.  There  is  no  good  reason 
for  this.  Shakespeare  shows  us  a  proud  aristocrat  like 
Coriolanus  vituperating  the  plebs  in  contemptuous 
terms.  This  is  true  history,  and  true  to  the  character  of 
the  Roman,  and  true  to  Shakespeare's  artistic  method 
as  a  satirist.  He  invariably  represents  a  street  mob  as 


286        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

irrational  and  fickle,  whether  composed  of  Romans  or 
Englishmen.  In  his  representation  he  does  Jack  Cade 
injustice,  but  he  follows  the  only  historical  record  ac- 
cessible to  him.  A  mob  was  to  him  something  disor- 
ganized, dangerous,  and  unintelligent ;  he  did  not  un- 
derstand that  civil  liberty  and  equal  participation  in 
the  rights  of  a  citizen  were  to  be  reached  only  through 
violent  and  irregular  effort.  In  manhood  suffrage  and 
the  rule  of  the  majority  he  probably  had  no  faith  what- 
soever, and  he  was  perfectly  right,  for  they  are  destruct- 
ive till  the  principle  of  representative  government  has 
been  firmly  established  and  the  power  of  the  executive 
over  taxation  and  the  standing  army  limited.  This  was 
not  done  till  forty  years  after  his  death,  and  he  could 
not  foresee  that  a  picked  body  of  Englishmen,  in  whom 
the  traditions  of  the  original  rights  of  the  Saxon  free- 
men still  survived,  would  isolate  themselves  in  a  dis- 
tant wilderness  and  prove  that  a  government  by  free- 
men was  still  possible,  still  less  that  it  would  be  found 
after  two  centuries  that  the  privileges  of  the  freemen 
might  safely  be  extended  to  the  entire  body  of  resi- 
dents. It  is  certainly  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  Shake- 
speare should  know  nothing  of  the  possibilities  of  de- 
mocracy before  the  experiment  was  made.  One  might 
as  well  expect  him  to  anticipate  the  principles  of  evo- 
lution in  the  physical  world. 

The  ordered  society  of  Shakespeare's  day  probably 
seemed  to  him  the  necessary  safeguard  of  law  and  civil 
peace.  Apparently,  it  made  a  strong  appeal  to  his  imagi- 
nation as  an  historic  organism,  if  we  may  judge  from 
the  force  and  eloquence  with  which  the  wise  Ulysses 
describes  the  state,  or  Archbishop  Chichel^  compares 
the  civil  order  to  the  bees,  though  it  is  dangerous  to 
ascribe  to  the  dramatist  the  personal  sentiments  of  any 
of  his  characters.  Where  a  representative  of  the  lower 


THE  LATER  NINETEENTH  CENTURY      287 

orders  is  brought  on  the  stage  he  is  represented  as 
simple,  but  loyal  and  honest  and  industrious.  As  Dr. 
Bradley  says :  '  He  has  no  respect  for  the  plainer  and 
simpler  kind  of  people  as  politicians,  but  a  great  re- 
spect and  regard  for  their  hearts.'  He  satirizes  the 
mob  in  Coriolanus,  and  he  makes  good-natured  fun  of 
the  artisans'  attempts  at  theatricals  in  Midsummer  . 
JMghfs  Dream,  but  he  never  satirizes  plain  people  as  I 
Chaucer  does  in  the  Canterbury  Tales,  where  the  Wife  ' 
of  Bath  (Dame  Quickly  is  refined  compared  to  her), 
the  Miller,  the  Reve,  and  the  Pardoner  are  all  hope- 
lessly vulgar.  A  very  neat  interpretation  of  The  Tem^ 
pest,  where  Caliban  represents  the  laborer ;  Stephano 
and  Trinculo,  labor-leaders  ;  and  Prospero,  capital,  was 
made  some  years  ago,  and,  though  confessedly  fanciful, 
is  as  good  an  argument  as  can  be  brought  to  prove 
that  Shakespeare  felt  the  rich  man's  disdain  of  the 
poor.  Shakespeare's  first  play  was  a  satire  on  enthusi- 
astically intellectual  young  men.  Vanity  and  pretense 
in  the  rich  he  ridicules  scathingly :  Slender  and  Shal- 
low, country  gentlemen  ;  Osric,  the  courtier  who  '  has 
much  land  and  fertile '  (there  is  something  suggesting 
personal  bitterness  on  the  author's  part  in  the  disdain 
Hamlet  feels  for  him)  ;  Polonius,  the  type  of  the 
worldly-wise  conventional  old  man ;  and  Sir  Andrew 
Aguecheek,  a  knight,  but  addle-pated,  and  many  others, 
are  rich.  He  arraigns  kings  and  nobles,  and  if  they 
cannot  *raake  good,'  they  are  rebuked  with  sternest 
justice.  Nowhere  does  he  favor  the  rich  or  well-born 
as  such ;  he  is  the  advocate  for  humanity.  Tolstoy's 
love  for  humanity  is  no  justification  for  hostility  to 
Shakespeare. 

There  is  one  quality  of  Shakespeare's  lines  which 
is  the  first  that  appeals  to  the  reader,  and  that  is  the 
music  and  the  eloquence  and  pith  of  his  phrases.  Many 


288        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

of  his  sentences  have  the  folk  quality  of  proverbs,  and 
the  wit  shines  through  the  dullest  translation.  As  for 
his  music,  the  foreigner  ought  to  be  warmed  and  touched 
by  it.  Every  American  boy  or  girl  of  sensibility  per- 
ceives the  music  in  La  Fontaine  or  Virgil  as  soon  as 
one  hundred  lines  are  painfully  construed.  How  can 
any  one  who  is  not  tone-deaf  miss  the  melody  of  Mac- 
beth's 

Duncan  is  in  his  grave ; 
After  life's  fitful  fever  he  sleeps  well, 

or  of  the  songs  in  ^5  You  Like  It,  especially  of  Iris's, 

There  is  mirth  in  heaven 
When  earthly  things  made  even 
Atone  together, 

or  of  hundreds  of  other  well-known  lines  ? 

Count  Tolstoy  says  he  has  read  Shakespeare  in 
English,  otherwise  his  lack  of  reference  to  one  of  the 
most  noticeable  qualities  of  the  lines  might  be  ex- 
plained by  saying  that  the  music  was  lost  in  the  trans- 
lation as  the  music  of  the  Iliad  is  lost  in  Pope's  rhymed 
version.  Count  Tolstoy's  love  for  humanity  is  a  noble 
passion,  but  it  blinds  his  reason.  If  the  judgment  of 
all  educated  Russians  who  love  their  fellow  men  is 
equally  perverse,  what  hope  is  there  for  the  elevation 
\J  of  his  countrymen  ? 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  CLOSE  OF  THE   NINETEENTH  CENTUBY 
BAKBETT  WEMDEIiIi 

Professor  Wendell's  William  Shahspere  follows 
the  same  general  outline  as  Dowden's  Shakspere,  his 
Mind  and  ^r^,^  — that  is,  it  regards  the  plays  prima- 
rily as  events  in  the  development  of  the  artistic  powers 
of  the  poet.  Such  a  method  was  not  possible  till  the 
chronology  of  the  plays  had  been  established  and  the 
plays  themselves  had  been  thoroughly  studied.  Profes- 
sor Wendell,  however,  owes  very  little  to  his  predecessor, 
Dr.  Dowden,  who  connects  the  development  shown 
in  the  plays  with  growth  in  the  author's  power  due  to 
life  experiences  of  which  we  have  no  certain  knowledge, 
for  he  regards  the  plays  simply  as  marking  successive 
dates  in  the  normal  growth  of  natural  artistic  power  in 
the  period  from  young  manhood  to  maturity.  If  the 
growing  seriousness  they  evince  is  due  to  anything 
more  than  the  natural  replacement  of  the  joyous  energy 
of  youth  by  the  thoughtful  earnestness  of  middle  life, 
we  have  no  evidence  of  such  a  cause,  nor  can  we 
safely  deduce  it  from  the  apparent  self-confessions  of 
the  sonnets.  Professor  Wendell's  book  borrows  no 
interest  from  plausible  conjecture  about  psychological 
states  induced  by  the  treachery  of  friend  or  mistress  or 
personal  knowledge  of  the  evil  of  the  world  bitten  in 
by  disappointment  and  disillusion.  Taking  the  plays  as 

*  Professors  Dowden  and  Wendell  follow  the  spelling  Shak- 
spere.  The  form  has  not  commended  itself,  and,  except  when 
referring  to  their  books,  I  use  the  ancient  spelling  Shakespeare, 


290        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

we  have  them  and  the  chronological  order  as  it  is 
established,  he  inquires  what  sort  of  a  series  do  they 
make,  what  is  the  nature  of  the  progression  from 
Love's  Labour 's  Lost  to  The  Tempest  f  Is  it  uniform, 
or  are  there  lapses  ?  What  can  we  learn  about  the  ar- 
tistic mind  by  examining  the  succession  broadly  and  in 
detail? 

Professor  Wendell  is  entirely  free  from  several 
erroneous  conceptions  which  have  vitiated  Shakespear- 
ean criticism  from  Dr.  Johnson  down.  The  first  is  that 
the  artist  means  to  teach  a  moral  lesson,  and  the  sec- 
ond, that  the  artist  aims  consciously  at  the  production 
of  something  the  form  of  which  is  worked  out  in  his 
own  mind  beforehand.  He  holds  that  the  act  of  poetic 
creation  is  largely  spontaneous  and  the  result  of  '  sub- 
conscious cerebration,'  that  the  character  which  is  em- 
bodied in  a  portrait  or  a  drama  forms  itself  as  the 
artist  thinks  over  it,  and  may  fairly  be  said  to  have  an 
independent  life  and  to  come  into  being  without,  even 
against,  the  artist's  volition.  This,  of  course,  is  true 
only  of  the  highest  type  of  artist.  We  call  them  crea- 
tive, precisely  because  they  do  not  create.  Thus  Pro- 
fessor Wendell  says : — 

The  Merchant  of  Venice  is  full  of  implicit  wisdom  and 
beauty  and  significance.  That  Shakspere  realized  all  this, 
however,  does  not  follow.  Critics  who  declare  a  great  artist 
fully  conscious  of  whatever  his  work  implies  are  generally 
those  who  least  know  how  works  of  art  are  made. 

One  thing,  however,  is  certain.  The  nearer  any  work  of  art 
approaches,  not  the  details,  but  the  proportions  of  actual  life, 
the  nearer  the  imagination  of  its  maker  approaches  in  its 
scheme  the  divine  imagination  which  has  made  our  infinitely 
mysterious  world,  the  more  endlessly  suggestive  that  work  of 
art  must  always  be.  To  the  artist,  however,  all  this  meaning 
is  often  as  strange  as  to  one  who  meets  for  the  first  time  the 


CLOSE  O^  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY    291 

work  in  which  it  lies  implied.  What  the  artist  knows  is  often 
no  more  than  a  blind  conviction  that  thus  and  not  otherwise 
the  mood  which  possesses  him  must  be  expressed.  Those  who 
find  in  the  great  artists  consciously  dogmatic  philosophers  are 
generally  those  who  are  the  least  artists  themselves. 

It  is  prudent  to  warn  whoever  has  not  carefully  watched 
the  work  of  artists  that  no  valid  conclusion  concerning  their 
actual  lives  and  characters  can  be  drawn  from  even  their  most 
sincere  artistic  achievements. 

We  may  still  be  sure  that  even  deliberate,  conscious,  funda- 
mentally historic  art  can  express  nothing  beyond  what  the 
artist  has  known.  His  knowledge  may  come  from  his  own 
experience,  or  from  the  experience  of  others  whom  he  has 
watched ;  or  from  experiences  recorded  in  history  or  in  lit- 
erature ;  or  even  from  the  vividly  imagined  experiences  of 
creatures  whom  he  himself  has  invented.  Actually  or  sympa- 
thetically, however,  he  must  somehow  have  known  the  moods 
which  he  expresses.  In  the  sense  then  that  what  any  artist 
expresses  must  somehow  have  formed  a  part  of  his  mental 
life,  all  art  may  be  called  self-revealing,  autobiographic. 

The  above  extracts  indicate  a  theory  of  artistic  crea- 
tion which  will  enable  the  critic  to  avoid  the  mistakes  of 
those  who  believe  in  outside  divine  inspiration,  or  think 
that  artistic  activity  is  precisely  similar  to  the  ordi- 
nary mental  processes  of  logical  construction.  The  last 
paragraph  might  have  been  supplemented  by  adding 
as  a  source  of  knowledge  the  great  hinterland  of  race 
experience,  a  source  from  which  we  all  draw  profound 
emotional  susceptibilities,  which  only  the  artist  can 
make  articulate.  Shakespeare  might  have  learned  from 
books  or  from  observation  how  a  man  like  Othello  would 
have  felt  when  he  believed  his  wife  untrue,  but  he  could 
not  have  felt  the  depth  of  the  outrage,  the  sense  of 
wrong  which  death  only  could  expiate ;  he  never  could 
have  written  '  It  is  the  cause,  it  is  the  cause,  my  soul.  Let 
me  not  name  it  to  you,  you  chaste  stars,*  had  he  not  come 


292        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

from  a  race  to  which  the  purity  of  the  wife  was  an 
ancestral  religion.  He  could  have  learned  that  a  man 
like  Hamlet  would  sport  with  his  mental  anguish  and 
hide  it  with  trifling  jests  and  an  antic  disposition,  but 
how  did  he  know  that  the  knowledge  of  his  mother's 
infidelity  would  cause  him  such  deep-seated  distress  ? 
For  thousands  of  years  his  Germanic  forefathers  had 
held  the  matron  sacred,  the  adulteress  punishable  by 
death,  and  bastard  a  word  of  shame.    The  artist  is  a 

I  man  in  whom  ancestral  sensibilities  and  prejudice  and 
appetites  and  passions,  though  subconscious,  realize 
themselves  promptly,  and  who  has  the  gift  to  embody 

\them  so  that  they  appeal  to  us  and  we  respond.  The 
Japanese  artist  is  different  from  the  Germanic  artist 
because  there  come  to  the  surface  in  him  a  different  set 
of  ancestral  experiences,  as  the  samurai  differs  from 
the  knight. 

Professor  Wendell's  theory  of  artistic  action  gives  a  far 
more  rational  explanation  of  William  Shakespeare  and 
his  relation  to  the  plays  than  those  of  his  predecessors. 
After  a  short  introduction,  the  book  gives  a  chapter 
to  the  *  Facts  of  Shakspere's  Life'  and  another  to 
'  The  Theatre  until  1587.'  The  poems  are  then  consid- 
ered. Here,  as  throughout  the  book,  conjecture  is  not 
indulged  in.  Facts  are  given,  and  only  such  deductions 
as  may  fairly  be  said  to  flow  from  the  facts.  That 
Elizabethan  audiences  were  very  fond  of  ingenious 
constructions,  of  puns,  figurative  twists  of  meaning,  and 
the  like,  as  the  author  contends,  is  quite  evident,  as 
much  so  from  their  serious  as  from  their  light  compo- 
sitions. Professor  Wendell  also  points  out,  from  an  ex- 
amination of  Marlowe's  Hero  and  Leander  and  Shake- 
speare's poems,  that  Shakespeare's  language  is  the  more 
concrete  and  his  figures  less  conventional.  The  con- 
crete and  even  homely  nature  of  Shakespeare's  words 


CLOSE  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY    293 

had  been  noticed  before,  but  never  so  convincingly  illus- 
trated. The  author  says  that  it  arises  from  an  *  instinct- 
ive habit  of  mind  in  which  the  natural  alliance  of  words 
and  concepts  was  uniquely  close.'  It  is  one  of  the  ways 
in  which  a  man's  mental  habit  and  vision  influence 
his  expression  and  make  his  talk  interesting.  It  gives 
Shakespeare's  style  that  most  precious  quality,  life.  It 
is  illustrated  when  he  changes  Salisbury's  speech  in  the 
original  of  Henry  VI,  — 

See  how  the  pangs  of  death  do  gripe  his  heart,  — - 
to 

See  how  the  pangs  of  death  do  make  him  grin, 

Shakespeare  changed  in  the  course  of  his  life  his 
verse-form  and  his  habitual  sentence  construction,  but 
this  matter  of  using  concrete  figures  was  characteristic 
of  him  from  youth  to  middle  age.  In  Xoue's  Labour  '8 
Lost  he  wrote,  — 

Is  not  love  a  Hercules 
Still  climbing  trees  in  the  Hesperides, 

and 

This  fellow  picks  up  wit  as  pigeons,  pease. 

And  he  makes  Prospero,  in  his  farewell,  speak  of  — 

The  green  sour  ringlets  .  .  . 
Whereof  the  ewe  not  bites, 

and  the  elves 

Whose  pastime 
Is  to  make  midnight  mushrooms. 

From  the  beginning  he  possessed  this  concreteness  of 
phrase,  the  vividness  which  distinguished  his  style  from 
any  other. 

Professor  Wendell  takes  up  the  plays  in  succession, 
giving  in  each  case  an  epitome  of  the  known  facts  and 


294        SHAKESPEARE  AND   HIS   CRITICS 

acute  and  intelligent  deductions.  For  the  first  time  the 
scientific  method  is  combined  with  literary  appreciation 
and  imaginative  insight.  The  central  theme  being  the 
development  of  the  dramatist  as  artist,  the  relation  of 
the  action  of  the  plays  to  a  sane  philosophy  of  life  or 
any  analysis  of  the  great  tragic  heroes  would  be  out  of 
place;  but  the  artistic  character  of  each  play  —  quite 
as  important  and  interesting  a  consideration  —  receives 
adequate  treatment.  The  facts  are  interpreted  as  land- 
marks in  the  march  of  a  great  artistic  soul,  an  inter- 
preter of  life  and  nature,  and  not  left  us,  as  on  the  pages 
of  Fleay  or  Furnivall,  as  mere  records  without  signifi- 
cance. He  points  out  that  Shakespeare's  life  covered  the 
rise,  culmination,  and  decline  of  Elizabethan  dramatic 
production  ;  for  Marlowe,  the  pioneer,  and  he  were  born 
the  same  year,  and  Beaumont,  who  marks  the  beginning 
of  the  decadence,  died  just  before  the  great  master ;  and 
that  in  his  early  work  are  found  traces  of  archaic  theatri- 
cal conventions.  Of  his  versatility  he  says  :  — 

When  we  consider  Shakspere's  experiments,  however,  rang- 
ing over  the  first  six  years  of  his  professional  life,  we  are 
presently  impressed  by  the  fact  that  no  two  of  them  are  alike. 
One  is  a  tragedy  of  blood,  one  is  a  chronicle  history,  one  is 
a  fantastic  comedy  after  the  manner  of  Lyly,  one  is  something 
resembling  a  pseudo-classical  comedy,  one  is  a  kind  of  romantic 
comedy  which  later  Shakspere  made  peculiarly  his  own,  one 
is  a  fashionable  erotic  poem. 

He  brings  out  the  interesting  point  that  the  poet 
made  his  romantic  plots  plausible  by  '  adopting  and  de- 
veloping for  his  purposes  the  conventional  device  of  the 
induction,'  that  is,  by  presenting  at  first  something  quite 
possible  in  real  life  and,  as  soon  as  we  have  become  in- 
terested in  the  characters,  passing  on  to  the  strange  and 
fanciful  part  of  the  story.  Thus  the  Merchant  of  Venice 


CLOSE  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY    295 

opens  with  a  scene  in  which  a  merchant,  embarrassed 
by  too  many  speculative  ventures,  is  worried  over  the 
future,  and  his  friend  tries  to  cheer  him.  Then  we  pass 
on  to  the  romantic  Belmont,  and  even  here  Portia  and 
Nerissa  discuss  the  suitors  in  womanly  fashion  before  the 
absurd  condition  of  the  choice  of  the  caskets  is  alluded 
to.  The  same  feature  is  observable  in  Midsummer 
Nighfs  Dream  and  in  As  You  Like  It^  but  it  is  not 
quite  clear  whether  all  this  is  not  the  result  of  sound 
art  rather  than  a  reminiscence  of  the  earlier  induction. 
Macbeth  at  least  opens  with  a  supernatural  scene,  which 
has  much  the  effect  of  a  musical  overture. 

Professor  Wendell  takes  the  ground  that  'Elizabe- 
than England  was  childishly  brutal,'  and  that  the  temper 
of  the  age  was  such  that  Shylock  was  simply  an  ob- 
ject of  aversion  and  contempt  to  the  audience.  Shake- 
speare's genius,  he  says,  made  the  Jew  'grandly  hu- 
man,' and  to  our  broader  sympathies  he  is  a  tragic  figure, 
though  originally  intended  as  a  comic  or  at  least  a  re- 
pulsive one.  This  may  be  true,  but  a  study  of  all  the 
stage  Jews  of  the  period  would  be  necessary  to  prove 
it.  It  would  seem  at  first  glance  almost  impossible  that 
the  old  man's  inflexibility  and  pride  of  race  would  not 
have  roused  the  admiration  of  some  of  the  audience, 
though  in  the  Middle  Ages  the  Jew  was  undoubtedly  the 
object  of  a  fierce  race  hatred .  If  this  point  is  not  al- 
together proved,  we  cannot  follow  Professor  Wendell 
when  he  says,  '  Only  when  we  understand  that  King" 
Lear,  for  all  his  marvellous  pathos,  was  meant,  in  scene 
after  scene,  to  impress  the  audience  as  comic,  can  we 
begin  to  understand  the  theatrical  intention  of  Shak- 
spere's  tragedy.'  Edgar's  assumed  madness  and  the  half- 
intelligible  absurdities  of  the  loving  fool  might  seem  lu- 
dicrous to  an  Elizabethan  audience  of  the  lower  class, 
but  reverence  for  a  king  and  respect  for  an  old  man 


296        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

and  a  conviction  of  the  justice  of  parental  authority  were 
natural  then,  and  must  have  prevented  Lear  from  seem- 
ing comic  even  to  the  most  thoughtless.  The  antics  of 
the  others  only  serve  to  bring  out  his  dignity  more  forci- 
bly, and  the  reality  of  his  suffering  must  havebeen  as  evi- 
dent to  a  seventeenth-century  audience  as  it  is  to  us. 

Throughout  the  book  Professor  Wendell  carries  the 
idea  that  the  reality  and  vividness  of  the  characters 
constitute  the  great  charm  of  the  plays.  They  are  so 
real  that  they  make  us  accept  without  question  the  ro- 
mantic situations  in  which  they  are  placed  and  the  im- 
possible or  fanciful  stories  in  which  they  are  the  actors. 
Of  ^s  You  Like  It  he  says :  — 

When  people  live  for  us  as  Rosalind  lives  and  Celia  and 
Orlando  and  the  Duke  and  Jaques  and  Touchstone  and 
Audrey,  we  accept  them  as  facts ;  and  with  them  we  accept 
whatever  else  their  existence  involves.  What  makes  As  You 
Like  It  live,  then,  is  the  spontaneous  ease  with  which  Shak- 
spere's  creative  imagination  translated  conventional  types 
into  living  individuals. 

This  is  undoubtedly  true.  We  are  apt  to  think  that 
the  attraction  of  the  plays  is  due  to  the  poetry,  the  wit, 
or  the  phrases  of  supreme  and  final  excellence;  but 
when  we  reflect  we  will  conclude  that  it  is  mainly  due 
to  the  fact  that  these  things  are  said  by  interesting  in- 
dividuals. There  is  plenty  of  wit  in  Sheridan's  comedies, 
but  we  rarely  re-read  them  because  the  speakers  are 
theatrical  puppets,  not  human  beings.  We  find,  too, 
that  we  are  drawn  to  those  of  our  acquaintances  who 
take  their  own  views  and  express  them  in  their  own 
language,  rather  than  to  those  who  may  be  more  intel- 
ligent or  learned  but  are  immersed  in  an  intellectual 
reticence  which  prevents  them  from  disclosing  their  na- 
tures. We  take  great  pleasure  sometimes  in  the  company 


CLOSE  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY     297 

of  persons,  rather  stupid  perhaps,  but  to  whom  the  popu- 
lar expression,  '  You  always  know  where  to  find  them,' 
is  naturally  applied.  Shakespeare's  characters  are  con- 
sistent, sometimes  conventional  like  Osric,  sometimes 
complex  like  Hamlet,  but  always  intelligible  sources  of 
speech  and  action,  whether  in  an  enchanted  island  or  in 
a  London  tavern,  and  we  as  human  beings  are  drawn 
to  them.  On  reading  Every  Man  in  his  Humour  or 
King  or  no  King^  we  find  no  such  attraction,  though 
we  do  find  a  neatly  constructed  and  well-told  story. 

Professor  Wendell  is  inclined  to  give  Shakespeare 
little  credit  for  inventive  or  original  constructive  power. 
There  is  truth  in  this,  too.  He  declares,  '  Among  men- 
dacious proverbs  few  are  so  completely  false  as  that  which 
declares  Shakespeare  never  to  repeat ;  it  were  truer  to 
say  that  he  rarely  did  much  else  if  he  could  help  it.' 
But  this  proverb  —  if  there  be  such  a  one  —  refers  to 
repetition  of  phraseology,  not  to  repetition  of  situation. 
Disguise  and  mistakes  of  identity  are  familiar  devices 
of  all  playwrights,  and  you  cannot  have  a  modern 
play  without  a  *  love  interest.'  The  events  of  life  are 
not  endless,  though  they  may  be  endlessly  combined 
and  colored.  But  the  number  of  individuals  is  endless, 
and  Shakespeare  never  repeats  a  character,  though 
some  of  the  earlier  ones  may  be  suggestions  of  later 
ones.  Biron  is  more  than  a  water-color  of  Benedick, 
and  each  of  Shakespeare's  women  is  herself  alone.  The 
saying  is  true  if  we  apply  it  to  form.  Consider  Por- 
tia addressing  the  Jew  on  mercy,  and  Isabella  address- 
ing Angelo  on  the  same  theme.  Hamlet  and  Claudio 
both  speak  of  death  and  the  unknown  hereafter,  with- 
out the  repetition  of  a  single  figure  or  turn  of  phrase. 
The  subject  treated  in  Lucrece  (lines  ?88  to  700)  is 
the  subject  of  Sonnet  129.  The  parallelism  ends  with 
the  subject.    Shakespeare  repeated  the  consideration 


298        SHAKESPEARE   AND   HIS   CRITICS 

of  certain  phases  of  human  nature,  but  always  from 
a  different  standpoint.  Professor  Wendell  says  that 
Shakespeare  was  'economical  of  invention,' and  that 
he  is  'remarkable  among  dramatists  for  persistent 
repetition  of  whatever  had  once  proved  dramatically 
effective.'  This  certainly  applies  to  the  comedies  only, 
for  the  four  great  tragedies  show  no  '  economy  of  in- 
vention,' but  are  independently  developed  each  from  a 
mere  germ  of  legend  or  story. 

We  cannot  follow  Professor  Wendell  in  his  theory 
that  '  the  character  of  Cressida  has  an  obvious  likeness 
to  that  of  Cleopatra,'  unless  we  class  all  light-o'-loves 
together ;  and  still  less  when  he  says  that  '  the  charac- 
ter of  Cressida  has  an  equal  and  less  generally  recog- 
nized likeness  to  that  of  Desdemona.'  These  two  are 
antipodal  because  they  differ  toto  ccelo  in  the  most  im- 
portant part  of  character,  the  instinctive  conception 
of  love.  The  one  is  a  fascinating  wanton,  the  other  a 
wife.  As  the  author  says,  '  both  are  untruthful ' ;  but 
Cressida's  untruthfulness  is  radical,  whereas  Desde- 
mona prevaricates  about  the  handkerchief  because  she 
is  frightened  by  her  husband.  There  are  very  few 
women,  or  men  either,  who  would  dare  to  tell  an  un- 
welcome truth  to  Othello  when  he  was  angry.  It  was 
not  necessary  for  Professor  Wendell  to  sustain  his 
theory  that  at  one  period  of  his  life  Shakespeare  was 
deeply  impressed  by  the  fact  that  love,  the  source  of 
happiness,  might  also  be  the  cause  of  misery  and  ruin, 
that  good  and  evil  are  bound  up  in  it  as  they  are  in  the 
constitution  of  the  world,  by  assuming  that  at  one  time 
Shakespeare  regarded  all  women  as  untruthful,  or  at 
least  unreliable. 

Professor  Wendell  concludes  that  — 

Shakspere's  artistic  development  from  beginning  to  end 
was  perfectly  normal  .  .  .  that  his  two  most  marked  traits 


CLOSE   OF   THE  NINETEENTH   CENTURY    299 

as  an  artist  are  both  unmistakable  and  persistent ;  from  be- 
ginning to  end  he  displayed  a  habit  of  mind  which  made  less 
distinction  than  is  generally  conceivable  between  words  and 
concepts  for  which  they  stand ;  and  his  imaginative  power,  in 
many  aspects  unlimited,  always  exerted  itself  chiefly  in  mat- 
ters of  detail  —  most  of  all  in  the  creation  of  uniquely  indi- 
vidual characters.  In  mere  invention,  in  what  is  vulgarly 
called  originality  and  what  really  means  instinctive  straying 
from  fact,  he  was  weaker  than  hundreds  of  lesser  men. 

When  the  term  invention  is  limited  in  this  way  all 
will  agree  with  him.  It  is  not  easy  to  see  precisely 
what  he  means  by  'less  distinction  than  is  usual  be- 
tween words  and  concepts.'  If  he  means  a  rapid  assim- 
ilation of  a  word  in  all  its  associations,  that  which  is 
ordinarily  called  language  power  or  perception  of  val- 
ues, he  is  undoubtedly  right ;  and,  as  language  is  the 
criterion  of  the  difference  between  man  and  brute,  he 
gives  Shakespeare  preeminence  in  the  highest  human 
attribute.  He  might  have  noticed  also  his  perception 
of  the  musical  values  of  words,  and  noted  how  this  de- 
veloped in  the  poet. 

His  book  is  full  of  thought,  and  provocative  of 
thought  in  the  reader.  It  is  at  once  scholarly  and 
marked  by  common  sense,  and  if  it  invites  criticism  it 
is  because  it  is  not  a  repetition  of  conventional  views. 

MR.   FREDERICK  Q.   FLEAT 

Historical  research  was  prosecuted  in  the  latter  part 
of  the  nineteenth  century  with  great  pertinacity,  prin- 
cipally by  the  members  of  the  New  Shakespearean  Soci- 
ety. Halliwell-Phillipps,  in  Outlines  of  a  Life  of  Shake- 
speare^ published  many  documents,  some  of  which  bear 
remotely  on  the  subject.  Mr.  Fleay,  in  his  Life  and 
Work  of  Shakespeare  (1886),  gathered  every  scrap  of 
information  concerning  theatrical  matters  in  the  period 


300        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS   CRITICS 

that  could  be  gleaned.  In  his  Manual  he  presented  the 
results  of  tabulation  of  the  various  forms  of  verse  in  the 
plays  of  Shakespeare  and  others.  His  industry  was  phe- 
nomenal. For  example,  on  page  154  of  his  Shahespeare 
Manual  he  gives  a  list  of  thirty-two  plays  by  Fletcher 
and  Massinger,  in  which  he  has  counted  the  number  of 
double-ending  lines,  rhyming  lines.  Alexandrines,  and 
short  lines,  and  computed  the  averages  of  each.  On  pages 
135  and  136  he  gives  a  complete  metrical  analysis  of 
forty-four  plays,  including  all  of  Shakespeare's,  the 
doubtful  plays,  and  the  first  sketches  in  early  quartos. 
These  are  tabulated  under  fifteen  heads.  It  is  hardly 
possible  to  appreciate  the  plodding  labor  necessary  to 
the  production  of  these  comparative  tables,  which  re- 
present but  a  small  fraction  of  his  work.  He  upholds 
frankly  the  rigid  scientific  method,  and  says :  '  The 
great  need  for  any  critic  who  attempts  to  use  these  tests' 
(the  weak-ending  test,  the  pause-test,  etc.,  which  imply 
some  aesthetic  sense),  '  is  to  have  had  a  thorough  train- 
ing in  the  natural  sciences,  especially  in  Mineralogy, 
classificatory  Botany,  and  above  all  in  chemical  analy- 
sis.^ As  Touchstone  says,  '  Thus  men  may  grow  wiser 
every  day ;  it  is  the  first  time  that  ever  I  heard  break- 
ing of  ribs  was  sport  for  ladies.' 

Had  Mr.  Fleay's  training  in  natural  sciences  been 
more  thorough,  he  would  have  learned  that  tabulation  of 
observations  is  one  thing  and  drawing  general  con- 
clusions another,  depending  on  different  faculties.  He 
would  have  refrained  from  hasty  and  fanciful  generali- 
zations both  from  historical  facts  and  from  metrical 
tables,  or  at  least  have  been  more  cautious  in  his  hypo- 
theses. To  assert  that  Twelfth  Night  shows  clear  evi- 
dence of  having  been  written  in  two  parts  at  different 
times,  and  dovetailed  together  at  a  later  period,  is  to 
ignore  the   laws  that  observation  shows  govern  the 


CLOSE  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY    301 

production  of  a  unified  work  of  art.  He  writes  of  the 
plays  of  contemporary  satire  of  the  Elizabethan  period, 
like  Wily  Beguiled,  the  Poetaster,  Sat iro- Mast ix, 
etc.:  — 

I  have  ascertained  by  induction  from  several  plays  of  this 
class,  that  when  the  lover  indicates  a  dramatic  author,  his  mis- 
tress signifies  the  company  of  players  for  whom  he  writes, 
her  father  is  the  manager  of  the  company,  and  marriage  sig- 
nifies his  binding  himself  to  write  for  them. 

This  is  discovering  a  mare's  nest  and  attempting  to 
hatch  the  wind  eggs  placed  there  by  the  finder.  Never- 
theless, we  owe  Mr.  Fleay  and  the  new  Shakespeare 
Society  a  debt  —  and  no  small  one  —  for  making  clear 
and  definite,  as  far  as  may  be,  the  changes  in  Shake- 
speare'sybr7/za?  style,  for  this  bears  on  the  development 
of  his  poetic  powers. 

MB.  SIDNEY  LEE 

Mr.  Sidney  Lee's  Life  of  William  Shakespeare, 
1898,  both  in  the  original  and  in  the  condensed  form, — 
Shakespeare's  Life  and  Work,  1900,  —  combines  all 
the  good  qualities.  Both  are  historical  criticism,  written 
by  one  who  appreciates  the  value  of  the  subject-matter. 
They  are  written  in  the  judicial  spirit  —  the  spirit  not 
only  of  a  judge,  but  of  a  great  judge  who  has  listened  to  the 
evidence  in  hundreds  of  cases,  till  he  has  become  familiar 
with  the  laws  of  proof,  the  bearing  of  documents  on  the 
point  at  issue,  and  the  deceptions  the  human  mind  im- 
poses upon  itself  in  considering  circumstances  bearing 
on  a  question  of  interest.  An  historian  must  take  inter- 
est in  the  facts  he  investigates,  otherwise  he  is  simply 
a  compiler.^  But  this  interest  immediately  arouses  the 

^  Mr.  Furnivall's  introduction  to  the  Leopold  Shakespeare  is 
characterized  by  the  same  industry  in  gathering  facts  and  form- 
ing tables,  and  the  same  ignoring  of  relative  values. 


302        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS   CRITICS 

imagination  to  form  a  picture  of  persons  and  their  sur- 
roundings, for  the  details  of  which  there  may  be  little 
warrant,  and  which  may  be  colored  by  knowledge  of  a 
later  and  different  phase  of  society.  Few  can  read  of 
Shakespeare  coming  to  London  and  becoming  author 
and  playwright,  without  involuntarily  reproducing  the 
situation.  The  life  and  vividness  of  the  plays  compels 
this  interest  in  the  man.  But  unless  the  writer  has  im- 
mense knowledge  of  literary  history  and  a  trained  judg- 
ment, his  picture  will  be  largely  subjective,  and  then  he 
will  force  the  facts  to  fit  the  judgment.  Mr.  Lee  is  free 
from  this  tendency,  partly  from  natural  habit  of  mind, 
but  largely  from  his  long  training  on  the  Dictionary  of 
National  Biography^  where  Mr.  Leslie  Stephen  insisted 
on  a  lawyer-like  sifting  of  evidence  and  careful  discrim- 
ination between  fact  and  deduction.  In  consequence  of 
this  and  of  an  inborn  love  of  literature,  Mr.  Lee's  book 
leaves  nothing  to  be  desired  and  is  indispensable  to  the 
student.  These  qualities  are  particularly  evident  in  his 
discussion  of  the  sonnets,  which,  on  account  of  their 
poetic  force,  have  excited  so  many  commentators  to 
step  beyond  criticism  into  conjecture  and  creation.  Un- 
less some  significant  document  is  discovered,  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  believe  that  anything  of  importance  can  be  added 
to  our  knowledge  of  Shakespeare's  life. 

Mr.  Lee's  delightful  collection  of  essays,  Shakespeare 
and  the  Modern  Stage^  bear  out  this  estimate. 

Professor  Lounsbury's  three  volumes,  grouped  under 
the  general  head  of  Shakespearean  Wars^  are  a  monu- 
ment of  careful  and  discriminating  research  and  give 
us  a  right  to  claim  one  of  the  great  historical  critics, 
as  Dr.  Furness's  Variorum  Edition  gives  us  a  right  to 
claim  one  of  the  great  editors.  Professor  Lounsbury's 
volumes  throw  a  great  deal  of  light  on  the  progress  of 
critical  opinion  during  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth 


CLOSE  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY    303 

centuries,  and,  if  carried  out  with  the  minute  care  that 
has  characterized  them  hitherto,  will  constitute  a  veri- 
table history  of  Shakespearean  criticism.  His  investiga- 
tions into  the  conduct  of  Pope  and  Voltaire  give  us  a 
new  conception  of  the  possibilities  of  literary  jealousy 
and  of  the  rage  that  can  possess  poetic  minds.  His  books 
are  so  entertainingly  written  that  a  student  is  apt  to 
overlook  the  amount  of  research  given  to  unearthing 
the  facts.  To  pounce  upon  the  interesting  and  signifi- 
cant statements  in  a  mass  of  unreadable  periodicals  and 
to  present  them  in  their  '  true  colors  and  just  extent ' 
is  the  task  of  the  trained  historian  of  literary  powers, 
and  is  well  accomplished  in  Shahespearean  Wars. 

THE  ESSAYS 

The  essays  on  various  points  of  Shakespearean  criti- 
cism and  historical  research  are  almost  innumerable. 
Fifty-two  belonging  to  the  first  quarter  of  the  nine- 
teenth century  were  collected  by  Nathan  Drake  in 
Memorials  of  Shakespeare^  including  some  by  Cole- 
ridge, Campbell,  and  Schlegel.  Of  the  first  half  of  the 
century,  those  by  Carlyle  in  Heroes  and  Hero-  Wor- 
ship,  Emerson  in  Representative  Men,  and  Lowell's 
Shakespeare  Once  More  are  among  the  most  notable. 
The  first  two  consist  of  general  philosophical  reflec- 
tions on  the  function  of  the  poet,  and  Shakespeare 
is  rather  an  illustration  than  the  subject  of  critical 
examination.  Carlyle  says,  'The  poet  we  may  call  a 
revealer  of  what  we  are  to  love.'  '  A  German  critic  says 
that  "  the  poet  has  an  infinitude  in  him,"  he  communi- 
cates a  certain  character  of  infinitude  to  whatever  he 
delineates.  This,  though  not  very  precise,  yet  in  so 
vague  a  matter  is  worth  remembering;  if  well  medi- 
tated, some  meaning  can  be  found  in  it.  For  my  own 
part  I  find  considerable  meaning  in  the  old  vulgar  dis- 


304        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

tiuction  of  poetry  being  metrical^  haviog  music  in  it, 
being  a  song.  Truly  if  pressed  to  give  a  definition  one 
might  say  this  as  soon  as  anything  else.'  '  The  best 
judgment,  not  of  this  country  only,  but  of  Europe  at 
large,  is  slowly  pointing  to  the  conclusion  that  Shake- 
speare is  the  chief  of  all  Poets  hitherto ;  the  greatest 
intellect  who  in  our  recorded  world  has  left  record  of 
himself  in  literature.' 

He  finds  Shakespeare's  power  in  his  '  calmly  seeing 
eye,'  he  looks  unconsciously  into  the  heart  of  things — 

Or  indeed  we  may  say  again  it  is  in  what  I  called  portrait- 
painting,  delineating  of  men  and  things,  especially  of  men, 
that  Shakespeare  is  great.  It  is  unexampled,  I  think,  that 
calm  creative  perspicacity  of  Shakespeare.  The  thing  he 
looks  at  reveals  not  this  or  that  face  of  it,  but  its  inmost 
heart  and  generic  secret ;  it  dissolves  itself  as  in  light  before 
him,  so  that  he  discerns  the  perfect  structure  of  it.  No 
twisted,  poor  convex  concave  mirror  reflecting  all  objects 
with  its  own  convexities  and  concavities,  a  perfectly  level 
mirror  —  that  is  to  say,  withal,  if  we  will  perfectly  under- 
stand it  a  man  justly  related  to  all  things  and  men,  a  good 
man.  It  is  truly  a  lordly  spectacle  how  this  great  soul  takes 
in  all  kinds  of  men  and  objects,  a  Falstaff.  an  Othello,  a  Juliet, 
aCoriolanus,  sets  them  all  forth  to  us  in  their  rounded  complete- 
ness ;  loving,  just,  the  equal  brother  of  all.  Novum  Organum, 
and  all  the  intellect  you  will  find  in  Bacon,  is  of  quite  a  sec- 
ondary order ;  earthy,  material,  poor  in  comparison  with  this. 

Carlyle  recognizes,  what  critics  have  not  always 
done,  that  Shakespeare  wrote  for  the  theatre. 

Passages  there  are  that  come  upon  you  like  splendor  out 
of  heaven  ;  bursts  of  radiance,  illuminating  the  very  heart 
of  the  thing ;  you  say,  *  that  is  true,  spoken  once  and  for- 
ever ;  wheresoever  and  whensoever  there  is  an  open  human 
soul  that  will  be  recognized  as  true.'  Such  bursts,  however, 
make  us  feel  that  the  surrounding  matter  is  not  radiant ;  that 


CLOSE  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY    305 

it  is  in  part  temporary,  conventional.  Alas,  Shakespeare  had 
to  write  for  the  Globe  Playhouse,  his  great  soul  had  to  crush 
itself,  as  it  could,  into  that  and  no  other  world.  It  was  with 
him  as  with  us  all.  No  man  works  save  under  conditions. 

That  last  is  a  truth  that  Carlyle  did  not  always  recog- 
nize as  cheerfully  as  his  friend  Emerson,  whose  essay,  if 
not  so  vigorous  as  Carlyle's,  is  more  temperate.  As  in  his 
chapter  on  Montaigne,  he  makes  the  name  the  starting- 
point  of  a  discourse  on  skepticism  and  belief  and  indif- 
ference, so  Shakespeare  suggests  to  him  that  a  poet  is 
the  voice  of  his  age,  Shakespeare's  being  an  age  full  of 
folklore  and  agitated  by  important  religious  and  philo- 
sophical questions,  and  particularly  fortunate  in  that 
the  people  loved  the  drama.  Dr.  Garnett  says  rightly 
that  '  Emerson  is  incapable  of  contemplating  Shake- 
speare with  the  eye  of  the  dramatic  critic'  This  is  true, 
for  the  morbid  seriousness  of  the  Puritan,  which  re- 
gards this  world  as  probationary  and  joy  as  an  imperti- 
nence and  beauty  as  a  trifle,  was  not  entirely  eradicated 
from  his  mind.  He  says :  — 

Shakespeare  employed  them  [the  material  things  of  the 
earth,  trees,  clouds,  fields]  as  colors  to  compose  his  picture. 
He  rested  in  their  beauty  ;  and  never  took  the  step  which 
seemed  inevitable  to  such  genius,  namely  to  explore  the  vir- 
tue which  resides  in  these  symbols  and  imparts  this  power. 
.  .  .  He  was  master  of  the  revels  to  mankind.  Is  it  not  as  if 
one  should  have,  through  majestic  powers  of  science,  the 
comets  given  into  his  hand,  or  the  planets  and  their  moons, 
and  should  draw  them  from  their  orbits  to  glare  with  the 
municipal  fireworks  on  a  holiday  night,  and  advertise  in  all 
towns,  *  Very  superior  pyrotechny  this  evening.'  ...  As 
long  as  the  question  is  of  talent  and  mental  power,  the  world 
of  men  has  not  his  equal  to  show.  But  when  the  question 
is,  to  life  and  its  materials  and  its  auxiliaries,  how  does  he 
profit  me  ?  What  does  it  signify  ?  It  is  but  a  Twelfth  Night, 


306        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

or  Midsummer-Night's  Dream,  or  Winter  Evening's  Tale. 
What  signifies  another  picture  more  or  less  ?  .  .  .  This  man 
of  men,  he  who  gave  to  the  science  of  mind  a  new  and  larger 
subject  than  had  ever  existed,  and  planted  the  standard  of 
humanity  some  furlongs  forward  into  Chaos,  —  that  he  should 
not  be  wise  for  himself ;  —  it  must  even  go  into  the  world's 
history  that  the  best  poet  led  an  obscure  and  profane  life, 
using  his  genius  for  the  public  amusement. 

The  essayist  says  that  other  men, '  priest  and  prophet, 
Israelite,  German,  and  Swede,'  beheld  the  same  ob- 
jects, but  they  also  saw  through  them  that  which  they 
contained, — 

And  to  what  purpose?  The  beauty  straightway  vanished; 
they  read  commandments,  all-excluding  mountainous  duty ; 
an  obligation,  a  sadness,  as  of  piled  mountains,  fell  on  them, 
and  life  became  ghastly,  joyless,  a  pilgrim's  progress,  a  pro- 
bation, beleaguered  round  with  doleful  histories  of  Adam's 
fall  and  curse  behind  us;  with  doomsdays  and  purgatorial 
and  penal  fires  before  us ;  and  the  heart  of  the  seer  and  the 
heart  of  the  listener  sank  in  them.  It  must  be  conceded  that 
these  are  half-views  of  half-men.  The  world  still  wants  its 
poet-priest,  a  reconciler,  who  shall  not  trifle,  with  Shake- 
speare the  player,  nor  shall  grope  in  graves,  with  Swedenborg 
the  mourner ;  but  who  shall  see,  speak,  and  act,  with  equal 
inspiration. 

The  seriousness  of  Shakespeare's  tragedies  is  too  well 
understood  now  to  make  it  worth  while  to  comment  on 
Mr.  Emerson's  strictures.  His  are  the  views  of  the 
poet  who  loves  beautiful  phrases,  looking  through  the 
spectacles  of  the  philosopher  who  worships  righteous- 
ness. The  essay  abounds  in  delicate  literary  apprecia- 
tions. He  goes  to  the  play:  'The  recitation  begins: 
one  golden  word  leaps  out  immortal  from  aU  this 
painted  pedantry  and  sweetly  torments  us  with  invita- 
tions to  its  own  inaccessible  home.^  '  There  is  in  all 


CLOSE  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY    307 

cultivated  minds  a  silent  appreciation  of  his  superla- 
tive power  and  beauty,  which,  like  Christianity,  quali- 
fies the  period.'  The  '  golden  word  '  or  phrase  he  refers 
to  is  'glimpses  of  the  moon  '  in  the  lines  of  Hamlet  to 
the  ghost :  — 

What  may  this  mean, 
That  thou,  dead  corse,  again  in  complete  steel 
Revisit'st  thus  the  glimpses  of  the  moon^  — 

words  which  at  once  reduce  the  big  reality  of  the 
world  to  phantasmal  twilight  in  the  hearer's  imagina- 
tion. But  those  words  are  beautiful  because  they  cohere 
in  the  structure  of  the  entire  scene,  and  are  the  utter- 
ance of  a  young  man  under  stress  of  emotion.  But 
even  if  Mr.  Emerson  confines  himself  too  closely  to 
the  literary  man's  standpoint,  the  worship  of  the 
phrase,  we  find  his  sentence  as  exhilarating  as  if 
Shakespeare  himself  had  penned  it. 

LOWELIi 

Mr.  Lowell's  essay,  Shakespeare  OnceMore^  is  longer 
than  those  of  his  illustrious  predecessors.  Coming  later 
in  the  century  (1868),  it  is  free  from  the  transcendental 
tone  of  the  criticism  of  the  earlier  period  —  reflected 
from  German  philosophy — and  is  governed  by  the 
spirit  of  common  sense  which  the  scientific  method  was 
impressing  on  the  writings  of  the  age.  Written,  how- 
ever, by  a  poet  and  a  scholarly  man  of  letters,  it  is 
entirely  free  from  the  bald  realism  which  science  some- 
times imposes  on  literary  research.  It  ranges  over  a 
great  variety  of  topics  from  the  inner  life  of  the  Eliza- 
bethan period,  the  flexibility  and  vigor  of  the  language, 
the  printing  of  the  folio,  the  character  of  the  poet, 
and  the  character  of  Hamlet.  This  discursiveness  gives 
the  essay  a  conversational  charm,  which  is  exceedingly 


308        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

attractive.  The  abounding  wit  sometimes  withdraws 
attention  from  the  question  discussed ;  but  if  this  be 
a  fault  it  compensates  for  itself  by  its  own  exceeding 
ingenuity  and  nimbleness.  Mr.  Lowell  calls  attention 
to  this  very  thing  in  Shakespeare :  — 

I  am  ready  to  grant  that  Shakespeare  sometimes  allows  his 
characters  to  spend  time,  that  might  be  better  employed,  in 
carving  some  cherry-stone  of  a  quibble ;  that  he  is  sometimes 
tempted  away  from  the  natural  by  the  quaint ;  that  he  some- 
times forces  a  partial,  even  a  verbal  analogy  between  the  ab- 
stract thought  and  the  sensual  image  into  an  absolute  identity, 
giving  us  a  serious  pun. 

Mr.  Lowell's  puns  and  verbal  conceits  are  far  bet- 
ter than  Shakespeare's,  for  they  always  illustrate  the 
thought ;  but  they  sometimes  assume  a  familiarity  with 
literature  and  literary  anecdotes  in  the  reader,  not 
general  now,  though  possibly  Mr.  Lowell  was  justified 
in  assuming  it  in  his  generation.  It  is  possible  that  Mr. 
Lowell  is  wrong  in  referring  to  Ophelia's  words  as  'the 
piteous  "  no  more,  but  so ! "  Mn  which  Ophelia  compresses 
the  heart-break  whose  compression  was  to  make  her 
mad,'  for  the  words  are  addressed  to  her  brother  at  a 
time  when  she  is  resting  secure  in  the  consciousness  that 
Hamlet  has  '  importuned  her  with  love  in  honorable 
fashion.'  The  heart-break  is  expressed  in  the  words,  '  I 
was  the  more  deceived,'  in  reply  to  Hamlet's  '  I  loved 
you  not,'  spoken  long  after,  when  at  her  father's  com- 
mand she  had  denied  for  two  weeks  her  maiden  presence 
to  her  lover.  This  error  is  but  a  trifling  matter. 

Mr.  Lowell  ranges  over  so  many  topics  that  it  is  im- 
possible to  summarize.  The  distinction  he  makes  be- 

*  These  words  are  followed  in  F.  by  an  interrogation  mark, 
which  would  mark  them  as  arch.  Some  critics  prefer  to  omit  it, 
but  even  so,  the  girl's  next  speech  shows  that  she  is  not  alarmed. 


CLOSE  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY    309 

tween  the  Greek  conception  of  fate  and  Shakespeare's 
of  character  as  a  cause,  is  summed  up  in  the  sentence, 
'Generally  it  may  be  said  that  with  the  Greeks  the 
character  is  involved  in  the  action'  (helpless,  power- 
less), '  while  with  Shakespeare  the  action  is  evolved 
from  the  character.' 

Of  the  costuming  and  setting  he  says  they  should  be 
*  in  keeping,'  first  historically  as  far  as  is  possible,  and 
secondly  intrinsically,  so  as  to  make  a  'harmony  with 
the  total  impression.'  He  criticises  John  Kemble  for 
dressing  Macbeth  in  a  modern  Highland  costume,  not 
because  it  'wounds  the  antiquarian  conscience,'  but 
because  it  '  wounds  the  poetic  conscience.'  ^  Hamlet  he 
regards  as  so  intellectual  a  person,  so  given  to  moraliz- 
ing on  every  situation  and  reducing  motives  and  duty  to 
general  propositions,  as  to  have  no  energy  left  for  action. 
He  thinks  that  the  prince  sees  both  sides  so  clearly, 
and  has  so  remarkable  a  gift  for  language,  that  he  is 
taken  up  in  comparing  them,  and  can  never  decide 
which  is  so  far  the  best  as  to  call  for  instant  action. 

[His  irony]  is  the  half-jest,  half-earnest  of  an  inactive  tem- 
perament, that  has  not  quite  made  up  its  mind  whether  Ufe 
is  a  reality  or  no,  whether  men  were  not  made  in  jest,  and 
which  amuses  itself  equally  with  finding  a  deep  meaning  in 
trivial  things  and  a  trifling  one  in  the  profoundest  mysteries 
of  being,  because  the  want  of  earnestness  in  its  own  essence 
infects  everything  else  with  its  own  indifference. 

If  we  accede  to  this,  and  perhaps  we  must,  we  may 
at  least  remember  the  peculiar  circumstances  in  which 
Hamlet  is  placed,  and  his  antecedent  history  and  educa- 
tion, which  so  intensify  the  shock  of  the  ghost's  disclos- 
ure. Mr.  Lowell  puts  aside  firmly  the  hypothesis  that 

*  The  entire  passage  on  the  subject  of  antiquarian  truth  is  ad- 
mirable. 


310        SHAKESPEARE   AND  HIS  CRITICS 

Hamlet  is  insane,  because  a  crazy  man  could  not  be  the 
hero  of  a  tragedy.  He  knows  that  an  intellectual  man 
of  vivid  imagination  and  high-strung  emotional  tem- 
perament may  appear  insane  in  mental  distress.  Of  the 
play  he  well  says :  — 

Whether  I  have  fancied  anything  into  Hamlet  which  the 
author  never  dreamed  of  putting  there,  I  do  not  greatly  con- 
cern myself  to  inquire.  .  .  .  Praise  art  as  we  will,  that  which 
the  artist  did  not  mean  to  put  into  his  work,  but  which  found 
itself  there  by  some  generous  process  of  Nature  of  which  he 
was  as  unaware  as  the  blue  river  is  of  its  rhyme  with  the  blue 
sky,  has  somewhat  in  it  that  snatches  us  into  sympathy  with 
higher  things  than  those  which  come  by  plot  and  observa- 
tion. .  .  .  Without  foremeaning  it,  [Goethe]  impersonated  in 
Mephistopheles  the  genius  of  his  century.  ...  I  believe  that 
Shakespeare  intended  to  impersonate  in  Hamlet,  not  a  mere 
metaphysical  entity,  but  a  man  of  flesh  and  blood,  yet  it  is 
certainly  curious  how  prophetically  typical  the  character  is  of 
that  introversion  of  mind  which  is  so  constant  a  phenomenon 
of  these  latter  days,  of  that  over-consciousness  which  wastes 
itself  in  analyzing  the  motives  of  action  instead  of  acting. 

Is  it  certain  that  the  Hamlet  type  is  more  common 
now  than  it  was  in  1600  ?  The  skeptic,  who  instinctively 
asks  of  life  '  What  is  all  this  worth? '  is  a  product  of  all 
civilizations.  Without  him  there  would  not  be  much  be- 
sides material  progress.  Undoubtedly  Shakespeare  drew 
what  he  saw  and  what  he  divined  in  the  men  around 
him,  and  his  characters  were  contemporaneously  typical 
rather  than  'prophetically  typical.'  Neither  Shake- 
speare nor  Mr.  Lowell  could  take  out  of  their  brains 
more  than  their  ancestors  and  their  observation  and 
their  education  had  put  in,  though  it  may  seem  to  us 
that  both  had  an  unfair  advantage  over  us  in  some 
*  affable  familiar  ghost  that  nightly  gulled  them  with 
intelligence/ 


CLOSE  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY    311 

•MTT.TT.a 

The  Review  of  Hamlet  by  George  Henry  Miles,  first 
printed  in  the  Southern  Review^  1870,  and  published 
in  a  volume  of  eighty-eight  pages,  is  a  thoughtful  exam- 
ination of  the  play.  The  writer  combats  very  success- 
fully the  Schlegel-Coleridge-Goethe  hypothesis  that 
Hamlet  was  a  weakling,  a  sentimentalist,  staggering  be- 
neath the  weight  of  a  duty  he  is  constitutionally  incap- 
able of  performing.  In  this  he  anticipates  Swinburne 
and  Bradley.  Hamlet  in  his  view  is  a  cynic.  '  With  too 
much  wisdom,'  he  says,  '  Hamlet  had  lost  all  trust  in 
his  mother ;  and  when  we  cease  to  trust  our  mothers, 
we  cease  to  trust  humanity.'  Mr.  Miles  considers  it  not 
unnatural  that  Hamlet  should  refrain  from  killing  his 
uncle  when  he  finds  him  praying.  This  desire  to  kill  his 
enemy  when  his  condition  was  such  that  he  would  incur 
damnation  has  always  been  a  stumbling-block  to  critics, 
who  regard  it  as  indicating  a  fiendish  refinement  of 
malice ;  but  granting,  as  why  should  we  not,  that  Hamlet 
really  believed  that  if  his  uncle  died  in  the  act  of  prayer 
he  would  be  received  into  an  eternity  of  happiness, 
and  granting,  too,  that  Hamlet  was  glad  to  grasp  at  an 
excuse,  the  delay  seems  natural  enough.  Hamlet's  duty 
is  revenge,  which  for  the  moment  is  unattainable.  It  is 
not  so  easy  to  follow  Mr.  Miles  in  his  declaration  that 
Hamlet  planned  beforehand  his  recapture  by  the  '  pirate 
of  very  warlike  appointment,'  nor  to  see  that  the  mono- 
logue in  the  third  scene  of  the  fourth  act,  — '  How  all 
occasions  do  inform  against  me  and  spur  my  dull  re- 
venge,' —  is  not  only  superfluous  and  contradictory, 
but  absurd  unless  Hamlet  planned  the  subsequent 
'  piratical  recapture.'  This  strong  soliloquy  is  not  in  the 
folio,  but  it  casts  a  great  light  on  Hamlet's  character, 
especially  in  the  lines :  — 


312        SHAKESPEARE  AND   HIS   CRITICS 

I  do  not  know- 
Why  yet  I  live  to  say  *  This  thing 's  to  do  ' ; 
Sith  I  have  cause  and  will  and  strength  and  means 
To  do  't. 

Mr.  Miles  says  this  is  false.  '  He  had  not  strength  and 
means  to  do  it,  and  could  not  have,  until  rescued  from 
captivity  and  impending  death  by  that  well-appointed 
pirate.'  But  Hamlet  did  not  know  at  that  moment  that 
he  was  to  be  executed  in  England,  and  he  had  '  strength 
and  means '  as  long  as  he  wore  a  sword,  even  if  he  was 
under  arrest. 

The  essay  is  full  of  spirited  appreciations :  — 

Hamlet  is  not  directly  on  trial  for  his  soul,  but  the  question 
of  eternal  loss  or  gain  is  constantly  suggested.  It  is  the  man- 
agement of  this  deep  sorrow  of  the  world  to  come  ;  this  sharp 
contrast  between  providence  and  fate ;  this  complicated  war 
between  conscience  and  passion ;  this  final  appeal  from  time 
to  eternity,  that  gives  the  drama  such  universal  indestructible 
interest.  ...  In  Hamlet  Shakespeare  has  not  only  created 
a  character  but  a  soul.     "' 

There  are  other  plays,  Macbeth^  Julius  Ccesar^  Rich- 
ard III^  where  the  forces  from  the  world  after  death 
react  directly  on  this  present,  evil  world,  but  none  in 
which  the  beyond  seems  so  immanent,  nor  where  the 
victim  is  so  lovable  and  interesting,  so  human  and  so 
pathetic. 

JOHN  CORBIN 

Mr.  John  Corbin's  little  book.  The  Elizabethan 
Hamlet  (1895),  may  fairly  be  classed  as  an  *  essay,' 
indeed,  it  is  so  designated  in  the  prefatory  letter.  Its 
main  thesis  is  that  the  '  mad  scenes  in  Hamlet  had  a 
comic  aspect  now  ignored,'  which  adhered  to  them  from 
the  original  treatment  of  the  story  in  the  first  drama- 
tization, —  now  lost,  —  and  that  the  traces  of  this  do 


CLOSE   OF  THE  NINETEENTH   CENTURY    313 

something  towards  explaining  the  inconsistencies  in 
the  character  and  action  of  the  hero.  This  is  supported 
by  an  admirable  and  temperate  argument  conducted  in 
the  true  scientific  spirit,  in  which  nothing  is  exaggerated 
or  suppressed  by  the  wish  to  uphold  the  author's  posi- 
tion. Every  bit  of  evidence  given  bears  on  the  point  — 
some  of  it,  indeed,  not  very  heavily,  but  none  is  given 
undue  force  nor  placed  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  scale. 
In  fact,  the  book  is  a  model  of  historico-literary  investi- 
gation. Should  the  lost  play,  the  first  Hamlet^  possibly 
by  Kyd,  ever  be  discovered,  it  is  twenty  to  one  that  the 
first  step  in  the  development  from  the  prose  Hystorie 
to  Shakespeare's  play  will  be  found  exactly  what  Mr. 
Corbin  supposes  it  to  have  been  ;  that  is,  a  '  tragedy  of 
blood '  combined  loosely  with  comic  matter,  in  which 
Hamlet's  mad  talk  and  action  caused  the  barren  spec- 
tators to  laugh.  It  is  possible  that  Mr.  Corbin  makes 
rather  too  much  of  the  brutal  disposition  of  seventeenth- 
century  audiences  compared  to  eighteenth-century  audi- 
ences. There  were  simple-hearted  and  compassionate 
people  in  England  before  Uncle  Toby,  and  in  Dr.  John- 
son's day  press-gangs,  the  condition  of  the  penal  law, 
the  love  of  witnessing  prize  fights  and  public  execu- 
tions, indicate  a  public  as  brutal  as  any  that  supported 
the  Elizabethan  theatre.  Defoe's  and  Smollett's  public 
cannot  have  been  much  in  advance  of  their  grandfa- 
thers'. But,  however  this  be  regarded,  it  cannot  be  denied 
that  the  theatre-goers  of  the  early  seventeenth  century 
delighted  in  spectacles  of  blood,  that  they  regarded  a 
crazy  person  as  an  object  of  derision  and  a  cause  of 
mirth  rather  than  pity,  and  that  the  pre-Shakespearean 
dramatic  presentation  of  such  motives  has  left  faint 
traces  in  Shakespeare's  handling  of  similar  themes, 
though  his  justice  of  perception  and  warm  humanity 
made  tragically  pathetic  what  had  been  and  perhaps 


314        SHAKESPEARE   AND   HIS   CRITICS 

was  at  his  time  regarded  as  mirth-provoking.  Mr.  Corbin 
presents  this  in  a  way  no  student  can  afford  to  overlook. 
Especially  philosophical  is  his  remark :  '  My  personal 
opinion  is  that  Shakespeare's  audiences  were  quite 
capable  of  feeling  strongly  and  simultaneously  both 
the  archaic  comedy  and  the  enduring  tragedy  of  the 
scene'  (the  nunnery  scene  in  Hamlet^.  It  is  not  quite 
clear  whether  he  means  that  the  audience  as  a  unit  took 
the  scene  in  both  ways  '  simultaneously,'  or  whether 
different  individuals  were  thrilled  or  amused;  probably 
the  latter,  though  the  first  is  by  no  means  impossible, 
as  any  one  will  admit  who  has  noticed  the  contest  be- 
tween pity  and  amusement  excited  in  his  own  mind  by 
occurrences  at  once  distressing  and  absurd. 

Mr.  Corbin's  admirable  studj^  recognizes  that,  after 
all,  the  important  thing  is  not  Hamlet  as  he  appeared 
to  the  audiences  of  1603,  but  the  Hamlet  that  has  been 
built  up  by  thousands  of  interpretations  by  great  actors 
and  critics.  He  says :  — 

Each  actor  and  critic  has  divined  new  traits  of  beauty,  and 
generations  have  so  loved  the  gentleness  of  the  Prince,  that 
in  the  light  of  their  love  the  brutal  facts  of  many  of  the 
scenes  in  which  he  moves  are  glorified.  The  modern  Hamlet 
is  the  true  Hamlet.  In  the  truest  sense  of  the  word  he  is  the 
Shakespearean  Hamlet ;  and  will  continue  so,  until  new  ages 
shall  add  new  beauties  to  our  interpretation. 

Ordinarily,  the  disciple  of  the  modern  school  would 
ignore  the  psychical  Hamlet,  the  product  of  so  much  re- 
flection and  traditional  love,  as  something  fanciful  and 
incomprehensible,  and  insist  on  the  original  conception 
as  the  only  veritable  one.  Mr.  Corbin  recognizes  that  an 
art-product,  though  unchangeable  in  its  outward  form  as 
it  left  its  creator's  hand,  has  an  existence  in  the  general 
consciousness  which  develops  like  a  living  thing  or 


CLOSE   OF  THE   NINETEENTH   CENTURY     315 

languishes  and  dies.  Frequently  scientific  research  treats 
the  dead  body  and  the  living  one  with  the  same  respect 
because  unconscious  of  the  difference,  but  Mr.  Corbin 
adds  to  the  spirit  of  exact  investigation  a  comprehension 
of  what  constitutes  literary  value, — life  in  the  minds  of 
the  people.  This  gives  his  essay  an  almost  unique  worth. 

STOLL 

A  typical  example  of  scientific  treatment  of  a  criti- 
cal question  is  to  be  found  in  the  paper  of  Mr.  E.  E. 
Stoll  in  the  June  (1907)  number  of  Modem  Lan- 
guage Notes.  The  thesis  is  that  the  ghosts  in  Shake- 
speare's plays  are  not  subjective  ghosts,  figments  of  the 
excited  brains  of  criminals  and  the  outcome  of  mental 
states,  but,  in  the  conception  of  the  artist  and  the  per- 
ception of  the  Elizabethan  audience,  veritable  visitants 
from  the  supernatural  world.  The  question  is  not,  did 
Shakespeare  himself  believe  in  ghosts,  but  did  he  write 
in  the  full  consciousness  that  his  audience  did  believe 
in  their  reality,  and  therefore  intend  his  ghosts  to  be 
taken  as  veritable  ? 

About  the  ghost  of  Hamlet's  father  there  can  be  no 
question.  It  appears  to  four  persons,  and  it  speaks. 
The  consciences  of  the  guardsmen  who  see  it  first  are 
not  burdened.  The  ghost  is  almost  one  of  the  dramatis 
personcB.  None  of  Shakespeare's  ghosts  do  anything; 
there  is  no  such  absurdity  as  in  the  German  Hamlet, 
where  the  ghost  gives  the  soldier  a  box  on  the  ear.  The 
fairies,  Oberon,  Puck,  and  Ariel,  act  in  accordance 
with  their  imagined  characters  as  developed  in  folk- 
lore. The  Harpies  in  The  Tempest  carry  off  the  banquet 
and  the  phantom  dogs  bite  the  drunken  conspirators 
and  make  them  'roar.'  Shakespeare's  ghosts  are  also 
true  to  the  belief  of  the  time.  They  appear  to  the 
doomed  man  before  his  death,  or  in  the  fulfillment  of  a 


316        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

curse ;  they  are  the  ghosts  of  popular  superstition,  and 
therefore  not  projections  of  a  guilty  conscience. 

The  crucial  instance  is  Banquo's  ghost.  Professor 
Bradley,  in  a  note,  suggests  that  this  may  be  an  halluci- 
nation. Macbeth  is  highly  imaginative.  He  has  already 
seen  the  air-borne  dagger.  He  caUs  the  ghost  an  '  un- 
real mockery.'  It  vanishes  when  he  recovers  self-pos- 
session. He  alone  sees  it.  It  is  therefore  an  illusion,  as 
the  dagger  was.*  Mr.  StoU  combats  this  conclusion 
successfully.  Dr.  Forman's  diary  shows  that  the  '  blood- 
boltered  Banquo'  was  represented  on  Shakespeare's 
stage  by  a  real  actor,  supposed  to  be  visible  to  Macbeth 
and  the  audience,  but  not  to  the  rest  of  the  actors.  From 
the  day  of  Homer  goddesses  and  ghosts  have  had  the 
power  of  being  visible  to  one  person  only.  We  have  as 
much  right  to  say  that  Macbeth  recovers  self-posses- 
sion when  the  ghost  propria  motu  vanishes  as  that  he 
causes  the  illusion  to  disappear  by  an  effort  of  his  will. 

As  to  Caesar's  ghost,  there  would  seem  to  be  even 
less  question  that  Shakespeare  intended  the  audience 
to  take  it  for  a  real  ghost,  for  it  speaks.  In  the  Eliza- 
bethan audience  the  greater  number  believed  in  the 

^  It  is  a  mark  of  scientific  criticism  to  be  absolutely  fair.  Mr. 
StoU  is  not  entirely  so  to  Professor  Bradley.  He  does  not  men- 
tion that  the  discussion  is  contained  in  a  note  and  is  merely  sug- 
gestive. He  finds  fault  with  him  for  adducing  the  argument  that 
the  ghost  is  visible  only  to  Macbeth,  but  omits  Professor  Brad- 
ley's remark,  *  I  should  attach  no  weight  to '  (that  point)  *  taken 
alone,'  and  his  reference  to  the  page  where  he  asserts  that  the 
ghost  of  Hamlet's  father  was  meant  to  be  taken  as  real.  Finally, 
he  omits  Professor  Bradley's  summary  :  — 

*  On  the  whole,  and  with  some  doubt,  I  think  that  Shakespeare 
(1)  meant  the  judicious  to  take  the  ghost  (Banquo's)  for  an  hallu- 
cination, but  (2)  know  that  the  bulk  of  the  audience  would  take 
it  for  a  reality.  And  I  am  more  sure  of  (2)  than  of  (1).' 

When  a  man  of  straw  is  set  up,  he  should  not  be  labeled  with 
the  name  of  the  first  modern  critic. 


CLOSE  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY    317 

reality  of  ghosts,  and  if  there  were  any  skeptics  they 
were  ready  to  yield  temporarily  to  the  emotion  of  the 
crowd.  In  fact,  even  now  many  of  us  are  willing  to  set 
aside  for  the  moment  our  convictions  in  favor  of  our 
imaginings  when  we  witness  a  Shakespearean  play.  We 
enjoy  the  make-believe  and  are  thrilled  by  the  sight  of 
a  theatrical  ghost  if  ushered  in  by  the  master,  though 
we  have  not  the  slightest  belief  in  the  appearance  of 
disembodied  spirits.  The  Elizabethan  audience  was  of 
course  far  more  susceptible  than  we. 

When  ghosts  or  spirits  appear  in  a  dream,  and 
when  they  are  represented  on  the  stage  by  real  actors 
who  move  and  speak,  as  in  Richard  III  and  Henry 
Vllly  it  would  seem  as  if  they  must  be  subjective,  and 
must  stand  for  figures  of  the  dreamer's  imagination, 
since  he  can  neither  hear  nor  see.  Mr.  StoU  will  hardly 
admit  this.  He  says,  'It  may  be  that  Shakespeare 
meant  that  the  ghosts  (in  Richard  III)  should  be  no 
more  than  a  dream,  no  more  than  pangs  of  conscience.' 
'But  even  so  our  thesis  stands,  for  he  has  not  suc- 
ceeded. They  are  objective  still.  Not  only  do  the  ghosts 
tread  the  stage  and  lift  up  their  voices,  but  —  unmis- 
takable immemorial  token  —  the  lights  burn  blue. 
Moreover,  at  the  same  time  these  ghosts  appear  and 
prophesy  to  Richmond,  and  by  him,  too,  are  recognized 
as  the  souls  of  the  bodies  which  Richard  murdered.' 
This  last  goes  far  to  prove  that  Shakespeare  did  not 
regard  the  ghosts  as  emanations  of  Richard's  guilty 
conscience,  but  as  the  veritable  spirits  of  the  dead, 
though  appearing  in  a  vision.  A  modern  playwright  — 
for  example,  the  author  of  the  Bells  —  conceives  the 
dream  of  Matthias  as  subjective  strictly,  and  is  careful 
to  present  nothing  which  might  interfere  with  such  an 
interpretation.  He  would  never  represent  two  men  see- 
ing the  same  sleeping  vision. 


318        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

The  spirits  in  Henry  VIII  appear  before  the  sleep- 
ing Queen  and  '  hold  the  garland  over  her  head.'  She 
'  makes  in  her  sleep  signs  of  rejoicing,  and  holdeth  up 
her  hands  to  heaven.'  The  celestial  visitants  are  not 
visible  to  her  servants.  They  can  hardly  be  held  to 
represent  merely  creations  of  the  imagination  of  the 
dying  woman.  They  are  good  angels  sent  from  heaven 
to  comfort  her,  and  were  so  regarded  by  the  audience 
and  intended  to  be  so  regarded  by  the  author.  They 
are  stage  representations  of  real  beings,  at  least  beings 
considered  actual  in  the  seventeenth  century. 

Did  the  poet  regard  them  as  such,  or  was  he  simply 
playing  on  popular  beliefs?  As  Mr.  StoU  says :  — 

Did  Shakespeare  then  believe  in  these  things,  in  the  super- 
natural character  and  significance  of  portents  and  omens, 
prophecies  and  presentiments,  dreams,  magic,  curses,  witches, 
ghosts  ?  So  much  as  that  we  must  not,  need  not  here  under- 
take to  prove :  it  is  the  implication  and  corollary  of  all  that 
we  have  proved.  As  did  his  fellow  playwrights,  he  repre- 
sented ghosts,  witches,  omens,  dreams,  and  the  like  alt^ays 
as  simply  as  if  he  believed  in  them,  and  his  belief  there  is  no 
more  reason  to  question  than  theirs. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  prove  how  far  intelligent  men 
believe  in  popular  superstitions  at  any  time.  Poets, 
especially,  take  up  the  symbols  of  a  faith  and  invest 
them  with  esoteric  meaning ;  they  penetrate  beyond  the 
creed  to  the  verities  and  powers,  a  dim  perception  of 
which  led  men  to  formulate  the  creed  or  invent  the  myth. 
Everything  is  symbolic  to  them.  Witches,  or  ghosts, 
or  legendary  history,  or  folklore,  they  believe  in  all  for 
the  purpose  of  envisaging  life.  Shakespeare  does  not 
disclose  his  personal  belief,  but  addresses  himself  to  the 
public  mind  with  a  full  knowledge  of  its  superstitions, 
and  an  instinct  how  they  might  be  used  parabolically 


CLOSE  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY    319 

and  harmoniously  with  their  nature  and  source.  Appar- 
ently he  shared  the  idea,  inherited  from  Komanism, 
that  occupation  and  mental  condition  at  the  moment  of 
death  affected  powerfully  fate  after  death  ;  for  he  puts 
into  the  mouth  of  his  most  intelligent  and  skeptical  char- 
acter the  words,  *  This  is  hire  and  salary,  not  revenge ' ; 
to  kill  my  uncle  praying,  that  is,  would  be  a  very  in- 
effectual way  and  would  carry  out  the  words,  not  the 
spirit,  of  my  father's  command,  to  send  my  uncle  to  eter- 
nal bliss.  '  In  our  circumstance  and  course  of  thought 
'tis  heavy  with  him'  (his  father).  Hamlet  believed 
this ;  why  not  Shakespeare,  too,  as  most  of  the  men  of 
his  time  did  ?  And  if  Shakespeare  believed  that,  why 
should  he  not  believe  in  the  reality  and  frequent  visita- 
tion of  disembodied  spirits  as  far  as  other  intelligent 
men  of  his  day  ?  Of  course  we  can  say  that  Hamlet 
grasped  at  this  as  a  formal^  excuse  for  procrastination, 
but  he  must  have  had  some  sort  of  a  belief  in  the 
dogma  in  order  to  deceive  himself.  But,  on  the  other 
hand,  we  find  the  poet  putting  into  the  mouth  of  the 
wicked  man  the  rational  argument  that  justice  must 
rule  in  the  future  life  and  no  quibbling  will  avail :  — 

There  is  no  shuffling,  there  the  action  lies 
In  his  true  nature. 

Evidently,  Shakespeare's  religious  belief  cannot  be  in- 
ferred from  the  words  of  his  dramatic  characters. 

Mr.  StoU  fails  to  note,  what  Mr.  Corbin  fully  com- 
prehends, that  the  original  intention  of  the  author  and 
the  sense  in  which  the  Elizabethan  audience  took  repre- 
sentations of  supernatural  beings,  though  interesting 
if  they  could  be  definitely  established  and  rendered  com- 
prehensible to  modern  understanding,  are  of  very  little 
consequence  in  comparison  with  the  plays  themselves, 
enriched  as  they  are  by  aesthetic  interpretation  for  two 


320        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

centuries  and  by  the  love  and  interest  of  the  descendants 
of  the  men  for  whom  they  were  written.  Did  Raphael 
paint  merely  a  woman  and  a  mother,  or  did  he  expect 
those  who  viewed  his  picture  to  regard  it  as  a  portrait 
of  a  veritable  Queen  of  Heaven  ?  The  question  is  of 
the  same  nature  as  the  subject  of  Mr.  StoU's  paper. 
Shakespeare's  ghosts  conform  to  Elizabethan  supersti- 
tion in  externals  ;  but  it  is  far  more  important  that  they 
conform  in  essentials  to  moral  differences.  Banquo's 
ghost  is  quite  as  true  if  interpreted  symbolically  to  be 
a  picture  projected  so  vividly  by  a  guilty  conscience  as 
to  seem  real  to  the  guilty  man,  as  if  it  be  considered  a 
veritable  spirit,  no  'unreal  mockery,'  but  the  actual 
presentment  of  the  bloody  corpse  of  the  murdered  man. 
It  is  a  property  of  great  poetry  to  use  the  conventions 
of  the  day  in  order  to  express  lasting  truths,  and  to 
mean  more  and  more  as  time  goes  on.  Shakespeare's 
ghosts  have  an  artistic  function  not  confined  to  the 
seventeenth  century.  In  fact,  they  are  as  impressive  as 
they  were  then,  perhaps  more  so,  though  they  do  not 
appeal  to  the  same  popular  mind.  Otherwise  Shake* 
speare  would  be  of  the  age,  not  for  all  time. 


CHAPTER  XII 

CRITICISM  OF  THE  TWENTIETH  CENTURY 
DB.   A.  C.  BBADIjET 

Dr.  Bradley's  Shahespearean  Tragedy  is  the  most 
notable  piece  of  literary  criticism  that  has  appeared 
since  the  day  of  Coleridge,  Lamb,  and  Hazlitt.  It  com- 
bines the  enthusiasm  and  vision  of  the  romanticists 
with  the  common  sense  and  exactness  of  the  scientific  ^ 
method.  Though  confined  to  the  four  great  tragedies^V 
it  is  packed  so  full  of  meaning  that  no  brief  review 
can  give  an  idea  of  its  value.  In  the  introduction  the 
author  restricts  the  ground  by  declaring,  'Nothing  \ 
will  be  said  of  Shakespeare's  place  in  the  history 
of  English  literature  or  of  the  drama  in  general; 
questions  concerning  his  life  and  character  I  shall 
leave  untouched.  Even  the  poetry  in  the  restricted 
sense,  the  beauties  of  style,  diction,  versification  will 
be  merely  glanced  at.'  'The  object  is  to  learn  to  appre- 
hend the  action  and  some  of  the  personages  with  a 
somewhat  greater  truth  and  intensity.'  But  Dr.  Brad- 
ley's mastery  of  the  parts  of  the  general  subject  he 
does  not  discuss,  is  so  full  and  adequate  as  to  give  his 
treatment  a  justice  and  weight  not  often  reached  by 
the  specialist.  It  is  felt  as  a  substratum  of  his  thought, 
and  colors  much  of  what  he  says,  and  prevents  his 
view  from  ever  becoming  extreme  or  one-sided.  His 
familiarity  with  the  fundamentals  of  human  nature 
makes  his  analysis  of  the  complicated  natures  of  the 
Shakespearean  characters  convincing  to  the  common 
sense  of  the  modern  reader. 


322        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

The  first  lecture  (the  matter  of  the  book  was  first 
made  public  in  lectures  at  Glasgow,  Liverpool,  and 
Oxford,  —  the  writer  is  Professor  of  Poetry  at  Oxford, 
and  consequently  retains  a  tone  of  personal  address  and 
the  formal  divisions  of  the  university  lecture)  is  on 
the  'substance  of  Shakespeare's  Tragedy.'  This  is  a 
philosophical  examination  of  the  question,  What  is  a 
tragic  action?  or,  rather, ^ What  is  the  nature  of  the 
tragic  aspect  of  lif e^as  represented  by  Shakespeare  ? ' 
In  answering  this  tne  writer,  naturally,  builds  upon 
Aristotle's  analysis,  but  the  superstructure  is  worth  at 
leasT  as  much  as  the  foundation.  He  defines  a  tragedy 
to  be  '  a  story  of  exceptional  calamity  tending  to  the 
death  oT^aTman  m  high  estate.'  The  actions  proceed 
from  character,  and,  in  the  Shakespeare  tragedy,  the 
effect  of  chance  or  accident  is  minimized.  It  enters 
TKeT  actton  much  as  it  enters  human  life,  capriciously 
modifying  the  effect  of  free  will,  but  not  as  the  promi- 
nent, controlling  influence.  Thus  it  is  due  to  chance 
that  the  gracious  Duncan  enters  Macbeth's  castle  just 
as  '  the  thought  whose  murder  yet  is  but  fantastical ' 
was  ready  to  take  possession  of  the  minds  of  his  hosts ; 
that  Hamlet  is  brought  back  to  Denmark  by  the  pirates, 
that  Desdemona  drops  the  handkerchief  at  the  fatal 
moment,  that  the  letter  of  Edmund  is  too  late  to  save 
the  life  of  Cordelia ;  but  these  accidents  modify  only 
slightly  the  course  of  events,  the  controlling  influence 
is  the  will  and  characters  of  men  and  women.  The 
interest  of  the  play  never  depends  upon  the  unrav- 
eling of  a  complicated  plot  any  more  than  it  does 
on  the  happening  of  lucky  or  unlucky  events.  The 
jitory  is  a  conflict,  — not  only  between  two  groups 
representing  good  and  evil,  in  which  the  hero  is  repre- 
sentative of  one  side,  but  there  is  also  the  conflict  in 
the  mind  of  jbe  hero.  To  make  this  striking,  the  hero 


CRITICISM  OF  TWENTIETH  CENTURY    323 

need  not  be  good,  but  he  must  be  great,  and  capable  of 
profound  feeling.  Such  an  emotional  nature  as  that 
of  a  Shakespearean  hero  when  thoroughly  aroused  can 
express  itself,  and  its  struggles  and  suffering  can  be 
represented,  only  by  poetry  of  the  highest  order. 
This  poetry  overflows  and  becomes  the  atmosphere  of 
the  play,  and  affects  the  utterance  of  the  lesser  charac- 
ters, so  that  the  Queen,  Horatio,  Ophelia,  Banquo, 
Kent,  Ludovico,  even  the  'first'  and  'second  gentle- 
man,' may  express  themselves  properly  in  figurative 
and  rhythmical  language.  No  other  form  can  impress 
upon  us  the  agony  or  the  joy  of  great  souls.  But  the 
tragic  conflict  as  conceived  by  Shakespeare  is  not  the 
good  man  striving  against  fate,  which,  as  in  the  Greek 
tragedies,  has  a  spite  against  him  or  his  family  and 
insists  that  he  expiate  the  sins  of  his  grandfather.  The 
ultimate  power  outside  of  man,  which,  '  represented  in 
terms  of  the  understanding,  is  our  imaginative  and 
emotional  experience  in  reading  the  plays,'  is  not  to  be 
interpreted  in  religious  language  as  God  or  Providence, 
nor  as  either  malicious  or  beneficent.  It  is  '  something 
piteous,  fearful,  and  mysterious ;  but  the  tragic  repre- 
sentation of  it  does  not  leave  us  crushed,  rebellious,  or 
desperate.'  It  is  '  the  moral  order,'  a  world  beyond  our  \ 
experience,  in  whicli  evil  (using  the  word  in  its  broad- 
est sense)  sometimes  seems  predominant  and  victorious. 
It^  is  not  a  blind  fate  or  a  blank  necessity,  still  less  is 
it  a^~w6rld'in  which  justice  ultimately  triumphs,  but 
one  in  which  evil  works  out  in  time  its  own  destruction 
and  that  of  its  agents,  involving,  however,  also  the 
good  who  are  swept  up  into  its  maleficent  march  in 
the  same  destruction.  The  feeling  evoked  in  us  by  the 
Shakespearean  tragic  spectacle  is  sorrow,  awe,  even 
terror,  but  not  a  pessimistic  despair.  This  chapter  not 
only  brings  out  the  remarkable  reach  and  justness  of 


324        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

Shakespeare's  fundamental  thought,  but  it  furnishes  a 
reasonable  philosophy  of  life  to  those  who  are  'per- 
plexed in  the  extreme'  by  the  superficial  aspects  of 
the  world.  We  cannot  say  that  Shakespeare  had  con- 
sciously formulated  the  profound  conclusions  it  pre- 
sents, but  that  they  are  rightly  deducible  from  his 
tragedies  there  can  be  no  doubt.  It  establishes  his 
title  as  supreme  poet  on  a  far  higher  plane  than 
qualities  of  versification  or  technical  construction.  The 
sensibility  of  the  poet  to  beauty  passes  over,  in  its 
highest  development,  to  insight  into  the  reality  of 
things.  It  is  then  that  he  becomes  '  supreme.* 

This  profound  and  serious  view  of  the  world,  as  far 
from  optimism  as  from  despair,  is  to  be  gathered  from  the 
tragedies.  It  is,  of  course,  not  the  only  aspect  in  which 
the  poet  regards  life.  In  the  romances  the  question  why 
the  innocent  and  the  good  should  suffer  undeservedly 
^  is  subordinate  to  the  idea  of  beauty ;  the  suffering  of 
Imogen  is  temporary,  the  injury  done  to  Prospero  is 
righted:  in  the  Comedies  and  Midsummer  NigMs 
Dream  there  is  no  suffering  at  all,  but  the  happy  hours 

^  of  youth  are  viewed  with  indulgence  and  sympathy.  In 
the  historical  plays  life  is  looked  at  from  the  point  of 

v/  view  of  usefulness  to  society.  The  practical  executive 
man  like  Henry  V  is  the  hero,  —  the  man  who  under- 
takes the  duty  before  him  in  a  straightforward,  sensible 
manner,  who  intrusts  his  relations  to  the  unknown  to  the 
Church,  and  whose  conscience  can  be  satisfied  by  build- 
ing chantries  for  Richard's  soul  or  by  a  pilgrimage  to 
Jerusalem.  Mr.  Dowden  even  thinks  that  the  practi- 
cal, able  man,  '  whose  large  hands  mould  the  world,' 
who  has  no  doubts,  because  he  is  in  the  hands  of  God, 
whose  aim  is  justice,  and  whose  affections  are  but  a 
subordinate  part  of  his  being,  is  more  admirable  to 
Shakespeare  than  is  Hamlet.  But  every  one  feels  that 


CRITICISM  OF  TWENTIETH  CENTURY    325 

the  tragedies  are  more  profoundly  true  and  philosophi- 
cal than  the  historical  plays,  and  that  the  conflict  they 
embody  is  more  serious. 

Dr.  Bradley's  next  chapter  considers  the  subject  of 
dramatic  construction.  Here  we  find  the  same  grasp 
and  the  same  disregard  of  wire-drawn  distinctions.  As 
the  four  tragedies  only  are  in  question,  his  generaliza- 
tions are  not  subject  to  so  many  exceptions  as  are 
Freytag's,  who  tries  to  deduce  rules  from  Greek,  Ger- 
man, and  English  dramas.  Dr.  Bradley  notes  that  the 
exordium  or  introduction  Jsneci^sary,  and  that  Shake- 
speare  manages^with  great  skill  to  mix  striking  dra- 
matic matter  with  the  narrative  or  exposition  which 
imparts  the  situation  and  introduces  the  actors  to  us. 
Thus  in  Hamlet  the  ghost  excites  and  interests  us,  and 
afterwards  we  can  listen  with  a  sense  of  relief  to  the 
explanation  of  Horatio,  which,  if  it  opened  the  play, 
would  be  awkward,  possibly  tedious.  In  Macbeth  we 
have  the  short  opening  scene  of  the  witches  on  the 
blasted  heath,  *  when  the  senses  and  imagination  are  as- 
saulted by  a  storm  of  thunder  and  supernatural  alarm.* 
This  is  followed  by  the  scene  where  the  bleeding  ser- 
geant relates  the  occurrences  of  the  battle  to  the  King, 
in  which  pure  narrative  is  relieved  by  the  interest 
excited  by  the  fainting  condition  of  the  messenger.  The 
admirable  cumulative  effect  of  the  rapid  entrance  of 
the  actors  one  after  another  in  the  first  act  of  Romeo 
and  Juliet^  and  their  participation  in  the  street  fight, 
is  also  noticed  by  the  author.  In  all  the  four  tragedies, 
however,  the  dramatist  introduces^arly  a  pageant  scene, 
in  which  a  large  number  of  actors  participate  in  a  court 
functipn^aiidr  information  is  imparted  to  the  audience 
while  their  sense  of  the  picturesque  is  gratified,  and  their 
feelings  of  compassion  and  interest  are  not  aroused  too 
early.    The  Court  enters  in  procession  in  Hamlet  and 


326        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

Lear^  it  is  gathered  about  Duncan  at  the  camp  near 
Forres.  In  Othello  we  have  the  midnight  meeting  of 
the  Venetian  magnificos,  before  whom  Othello  and  Des- 
demona  so  eloquently  rehearse  the  events  which  have  led 
up  to  the  situation.  These  full-dress  scenes,  alternating 
with  dialogue  scenes,  relieve  the  tedium  of  an  exposi- 
tion evidently  intended  to  put  the  audience  in  possession 
of  the  antecedent  and  surrounding  circumstances. 

After  the  exposition  comes  the  dramatic  conflict, 
physical  as  it  is  between  the  hero  and  the  embodiment 
of  the  opposing  force,  and  psychological  as  it  is  in  the 
mind  of  the  hero.  It  moves  forward,  sometimes  one 
side  and  then  the  other  gaining  an  advantage,  but  one 
advancing  on  the  whole  to  a  culmination  or  crisis.  It 
is  in  depicting  the  inward  conflict  that  Shakespeare's 
power  appears ;  but  the  '  outward  conflict,  with  its  in- 
fluence on  the  fortunes  of  the  hero,  is  the  aspect  which 
at  first  catches,  if  it  does  not  engross,  the  attention,'  at 
least,  of  the  ordinary  playgoer.  In  the  construction  of 
the  outward  conflict,  or  plot  proper,  Shakespeare  is  simply 
a  skilled  playwright,  and  no  wise  superior  to  several  of 
his  contemporaries.  Dr.  Bradley  notices  with  his  usual 
judgment  that  '  as  the  plays  vary  so  much,  no  simple 
way  of  regarding  the  conflict  will  answer  precisely  to  the 
construction  of  all,  and  that  it  sometimes  appears  possi- 
ble to  look  at  the  construction  of  a  tragedy  in  two  quite 
different  ways.'  This  readiness  to  admit  the  inadequacy 
of  a  mechanical  theory  when  applied  to  a  work  of  art 
except  in  the  most  general  way,  is  a  testimony  to  the 
author's  critical  ability,  and  in  direct  contrast  to  those 
who  form  a  theory  and  then  force  each  play  to  fit  it. 

The  author  brings  out  another  point,  which,  though 
noticed  long  ago,  has  never  been  analyzed  with  so  great 
skill,  and  that  is,  that  there  is  an  '  alternation  of  emo- 
tional tension  all  through  the  tragedy.*  This  is  com- 


CRITICISM  OF  TWENTIETH  CENTURY    327 

mon  to  all  good  plays,  but  is  very  marked  in  its  regu- 
larity in  the  Shakespearean  tragedy.  The  well-known 
example  is  the  introduction  of  the  drunken-porter  scene 
immediately  after  the  murder  in  Macbeth.  This  '  rests 
on  the  elementary  fact  that  relief  must  be  given  after 
emotional  strain  and  that  contrast  is  required  to  bring 
out  the  full  force  of  an  effect.'  The  construction  of 
Othello  Dr.  Bradley  finds  to  differ  from  that  of  the 
other  tragedies ;  the  introduction  is  much  longer,  it  is 
difficult  to  say  which  scene  is  the  crisis,  and  after  the 
conflict  is  under  way  there  are  no  pathos  scenes  or 
humorous  scenes  to  relieve  the  emotional  tension  of 
the  audience,  which  is  increased  by  stroke  after  stroke, 
till  in  the  fourth  and  fifth  acts  it  becomes  almost  un- 
endurable. 

After  an  admirable  discussion  of  the  question :  how 
far  was  Shakespeare  a  conscious  artist,  scrutinizing 
and  improving  his  first  draft,  and  how  far  were  his 
effects  unpremeditated,  —  or,  are  his  great  effects  due 
to  deliberate  work  along  a  scheme  or  to  unconscious 
tact? — Dr.  Bradley  considers  '  Shakespeare's  defects'; 
for  a  critic  of  his  calibre  must  acknowledge  tbat  the 
plays  are  marked  by  defects,  whether  they  are  due  to 
carelessness  or  indifference  or  hurry.  That  the  actions 
are  improbable  or  strange,  as  in  the  opening  of  Lear,, 
is  of  course  a  matter  of  no  moment.  The  old  stories 
were  wonderful  and  strange,  that  is,  they  were  roman- 
tic, and  they  were  dramatized.  It  would  be  absurd  to 
look  for  realistic  construction  in  a  story  from  Geoffrey  - 
of  Monmouth.  The  first  'real  defect'  Dr.  Bradley 
notices  is  that  sometimes  Shakespeare  strings  together 
a  number  of  short  scenes,  where  he  'flits  from  one  ^ 
group  of  characters  to  another  without  giving  time  for 
each  to  make  a  definite  impression.'  This  defect  is  evi- 
dent in  the  latter  part  of  Macbeth  and  the  middle  part 


328        SHAKESPEARE   AND  HIS  CRITICS 

of  Antony  and  Cleopatra.  It  was  made  possible  by 
the  absence  of  scenery,  but  it  is  not  a  true  dramatic 
method.  It  approximates  to  narrative  in  short,  broken 
paragraphs. 

Second :  Shakespeare  sometimes  introduces  *  mat- 
ter neither  required  for  the  plot  nor  essential  to  the 
development  of  character,  e.  g.^  the  reference  in  Ham- 
let to  theatre  quarrels  of  the  day,  the  length  of  the 
pTayer's  speech  and  of  Hamlet^s  directions  to  him 
respecting  the  delivery  of  the  lines  to  be  inserted  in 
the  "  Murder  of  Gonzago." '  These  we  should  be  '  sorry 
to  miss,  but  who  can  defend  it  from  the  point  of  view 
of  constructive  art?'  We  suppose  that  Dr.  Bradley  is 
S  right  in  this,  but  at  least  some  of  the  scenes  when  the 

^^  dramatist  seems  for  the  moment  to  forget  the  develop- 

ment of  his  main  theme  are  necessary  to  give  the  audi- 
\    ence  relief  from  continuous  excitement. 

Third :  Some  of  Shakespeare's  soliloquies  are  evi- 
dently addressed  to  the  audience,  whereas  a  soliloquy 
should  be  a  self-disclosure  and  never  used  for  the  pur- 
pose of  conveying  information  as  to  facts,  but  solely 
as  to  psychological  conditions.  Thus  Edgar's  soliloquy 
in  Lear^  ii,  iii,  plainly  takes  the  audience  into  his 
confidence.  Dr.  Bradley  does  not  discuss  the  question 
how  far  the  soliloquy  and  the  aside  are  awkward,  in- 
artistic methods,  because  he  is  not  discussing  dramatic 
art  in  general. 

Fourth:  There  are  'inconsistencies  and  contradic- 
tions in  many  of  Shakespeare's  plays,'  especially  as  to 
the  lapse  of  time.  It  may  be  observed,  however,  that 
these  are  generally  unimportant,  and  such  as  could  be 
made  clear  to  the  spectator  by  the  actor,  who  had  re- 
ceived directions  from  the  author. 

Fifth :  Though  '  the  early  critics  were  often  provok- 
ingly  wrong  when  they  censured  the  language  of  par- 


CRITICISM  OF  TWENTIETH  CENTURY    329 

ticular  passages  in  Shakespeare  as  inflated,  obscure, 
tasteless,  or  *'  pestered  with  metaphors,"  they  were  surely 
right  in  the  general  statement  that  his  language  often 
shows  these  faults.' 

Sixth:  Shakespeare  sometimes  'sacrifices  dramatic 
appropriateness  to  some  other  object ' ;  as,  for  instance, 
thTelihes  of  the  player  King  in  Hamlet  on  the  instabil- 
ity of  the  human  will,  or  those  of  the  King  to  Laertes 
on  the  same  subject  are  not  dramatic,  that  is,  they  do 
not  help  on  the  action  or  disclose  to  us  the  nature  of  the 
speakers,  but  they  throw  a  side  light  on  the  character 
of  the  prince. 

Last :  Shakespeare  was '  fond  of  gnomic  passages,'  L  e., 
general  philosophical  reflections,  frequently  rhymed; 
and  introduces  them,  '  probably  not  more  freely  than 
his  readers  like,  but  more  freely  than,  I  suppose,  a  good 
playwright  now  would  care  to  do.' 

Dr.  Bradley  discusses  these  points  scientifically,  that 
is,  on  evidence,  not  on  impressions,  and  his  perception 
of  Shakespeare's  shortcomings  in  no  wise  diminishes 
his  certainty  of  Shakespeare's  preeminence. 

In  examining  the  character  of  Hamlet,  Dr.  Bradley 
disposes  of  the  theories  that  his  delay  was  due  to  exter- 
nal difficulties ;  that  he  was  restrained  by  conscience  or 
a  moral  scruple  ;  that  he  was,  as  Goethe  says, '  a  lovely, 
pure,  and  most  moral  nature  without  the  strength  of 
nerve  which  forms  a  hero,'  and  that  he  was  irresolute 
because  of  an  excess  of  the  reflective  or  speculative  habit 
of  mind,  the  last  being  the  idea  of  Coleridge.  The  critic 
asks  first,  what  was  Hamlet's  original  character  ?  sec- 
ond, what  was  the  effect  on  this  nature  of  the  events 
immediately  preceding  the  opening  of  the  play  ?  third, 
what  was  the  additional  effect  of  the  events  narrated 
in  the  first  act  ?  In  considering  these  points  the  critic 
bases  his  argument  on  lines  in  the  play ;  he  does  not 


330        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS   CRITICS 

force  the  lines  to  support  his  theory,  still  less  does  lie 
Ignore  parts  of  the  text,  as  so  many  of  his  predecessors 
had  done.  In  consequence  he  comes  nearer  to  a  rational 
explanation  of  Hamlet's  character,  a  definite  connection 
l)etween  his  nature  and  his  words  and  acts,  than  any 
other  critic  has  done.  It  is  impossible  by  any  epitome 
to^^ive  an  adequate  idea  of  his  analysis.  By  tempera- 
ment he  thinks  Hamlet '  inclined  to  nervous  instability, 
to  rapid  and  perhaps  extreme  changes  of  mood  and  feel- 
ing ' ;  he  possesses  '  an  exquisite  sensibility  to  which  we 
may  give  the  name  moral  if  the  word Js  taken  in  the 
wfde  meaning  it  ought  to  bear.'  '  This  makes  his  cyni- 
cism, grossness,  and  hardness  appear  to  us  morbidities, 
and  has  an  inexpressibly  attractive  and  pathetic  effect.* 

Nothing  is  to  be  found  elsewhere  in  Shakespeare,  unless  in 
the  rage  of  the  disillusioned  idealist,  Timon,  of  quite  the  same 
kind  as  Hamlet's  disgust  at  his  uncle's  drunkenness,  his  loath- 
ing of  his  mother's  sensuality,  his  astonishment  and  horror  at 
her  shallowness,  his  contempt;  for  anything  pretentious  or  false, 
his  indifference  to  everything  merely  external.  .  .  .  With 
this  temper  and  this  sensibility  we  find,  lastly,  in  the  Hamlet 
of  earlier  days,  as  of  later,  intellectual  genius. . 

This  brilliant,  sensitive,  warm-hearted  young  man 
led  an  active,  well-balanced  life  —  'courtier,  scholar, 
soldier '  —  till  one  day  his  father,  whom  he  had  loved 
and  admired  and  in  whose  shelter  he  lived,  was  found 
dead  in  his  summer-house.  The  whole  world  was  changed 
for  the  young  man,  for  it  now  presented  to  him  its 
most  selfish  and  cruel  aspect.  His  mother  soon  married 
his  uncle,  a  man  whom  he  instinctively  abhorred.  There 
was  nothing  for  him  to  respect.  He  fell  into  a  condition 
of  melancholy  —  'dejection,  not  yet  insanity.  That 
Hamlet  was  not  very  far  from  insanity  is  very  probable.' 
His  acuteness  of  mental  vision,  enhanced  by  his  uu- 


CRITICISM  OF  TWENTIETH  CENTURY     331 

happiness,  led  him  to  suspect  his  uncle  of  the  crime. 
While  he  was  in  this  mental  condition  there  came  in  the 
shape  of  a  message  from  the  other  world  confirmation 
of  his  suspicions  and  the  profoundly  shocking  assertion 
of  his  mother's  infidelity.  We  may  regard  the  ghost  as 
an  imaginative  presentation  of  the  confirmation  of  an  , 
instinctive  presentiment,  when  little  bits  of  evidence,  / 
lying  in  the  mind  detached  like  separate  grains  of  gun-  j 
powder,  suddenly  catch  fire  one  after  the  other,  and  the  i 
truth  stands  disclosed  for  a  moment  in  a  lurid  glow,  never 
to  be  forgotten,  but  incapable  of  further  disclosure.  This 
takes  place  only  in  minds  in  which  the  unconscious  in-  , 
stinctive  impulses  are  strong,  and  more  frequently  in  ! 
women  than  in  men.  Coming  as  it  did  over  this  young; 
man  in  the  condition  he  then  was,  it  left  him  so  far  un-j 
nerved  that  for  a  month  or  more  he  did  nothing  what-  , 
soever,  certainly  nothing  toward  avenging  his  father's  / 
death  or  bringing  the  murderer  to  justice.  He  had  fallen 
in  love  —  not  very   deeply  —  with  a  young  girl,  the 
daughter  of  a  state  official,  and  during  this  time  tried 
to  see  her ;  but  she,  in  obedience  to  her  father,  refused 
to  see  him  and  returned  his  letters  unopened.  Doubtless 
this  intensified  his  dejection,  and  he  forced  his  way  into 
her  presence  and,  finding  that  she  was  merely  frightened 
and  thought  him  crazy,  he  was  convinced  of  the  shal- 
low nature  of  her  who  received  him  favorably  when  he 
was  prosperous  and  had  no  sympathy  for  him  when  in 
trouble.  During  the  rest  of  the  play  Hamlet  acts  as  a 
nature  of  his  prof  oundly  moral  instincts  and  sympathetic 
and  acute  intellectual  perceptions  might  be  supposed  to. 
Dr.    Bradley   elaborates  his  theory  with  profound 
knowledge  of  human  nature,  and  tests  every  part  of 
the  drama  by  it.  As  said  before,  it  accounts  for  many 
things  Hamlet  says  and  does,  which  no  other  explana- 
tion has  done.  Hamlet  is  sane,  but  under  great  tension. 


y^oJi^^ 


332        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

It  is  difficult  for  any  one  to  realize  the  frightful  effect 
produced  on  a  young  man  of  exquisite  refinement  by 
the  certainty  of  his  mother's  impurity.  No  one  has  ever 
observed  a  similar  case,  and  we  can  only  reflect  that 
regard  for  the  purity  of  the  matron  is  one  of  the  deep- 
seated  inherited  instincts  and  that  a  sense  of  elemental 
shame  at  its  violation  by  a  mother  is  inherently  human, 
and,  according  to  Shakespeare,  is  capable  of  paralyzing 
the  will  and  forcing  a  man  to  find  relief  in  '  wild  and 
I  whirling  words/  It  might  be  observed  in  passing  that 
all  the  four  tragedies  are  motived  by  the  violation  or 
supposed  violation  of  a  primeval  instinct.  Macbeth  turns 
on  the  violation  of  the  instinct  of  loyalty  to  the  chief 
as  representing  the  tribe  or  the  state  ;  Lear^  on  the 
perversion  of  parental  and  filial  love,  and  Othello^  on 
the  suspected  betrayal  of  the  sanctity  of  married  love. 
These  instincts  are  necessary  to  the  ongoing  of  social 
order,  indeed,  to  the  very  life  of  humanity,  and  are 
perhaps  stronger  in  uneducated  than  in  educated  men, 
and  as  strong  now  as  they  were  in  the  age  of  Elizabeth. 
The  cynical  perversions  of  them,  of  which  we  hear,  do 
not  weaken  their  general  presence  nor  their  elemental 

^iM    force  in  the  least.  Hence  comes  the  '  universal  appeal ' 
/>^y  }}  of  the  Shakespearean  tragedies,  for  they  turn  on  pri- 
>y^Y^v    meval  instincts. 
'J^y.C^         Dr.  Bradley  shows  that  his  conception  of  the  charac- 

■    .0    ter  furnishes  a  rational  explanation  of  Hamlet's  conduct 
in  all  but  one  case.  Hamlet's  forgery  of  the  commission 
-J.     ;       carried  by  Rosencrantz  and  Guildenstern  to  England, 
J    \  j  whereby  they  lose  their  lives,  and  his  indifference  to 

their  fate,  seems  cold-blooded  and  not  at  all  compatible 
with  the  idea  of  a  '  pure  moral  nature  under  great  ten- 
sion.' It  is  hardly  to  be  excused  by  Hamlet's  supposi- 
tion that  they  were  cognizant  of  the  purport  of  the 
packet,  for  a  blank  paper  would  have  served  his  purpose 


CRITICISM  OF  TWENTIETH  CENTURY    333 

as  well.  It  is  true  that  Hamlet  regarded  them  with  de- 
testation as  treacherous  spies  masquerading  as  friends, 
and  that  he  had  reason  to  hate  and  despise  the  entire 
human  race,  with  the  exception  of  Horatio.  Again,  in 
Shakespeare's  day,  —  the  plays  must  of  course  be  judged 
by  the  ethical  standard  of  the  time,  —  a  judicial  murder 
was  not  regarded  with  the  horror  it  inspires  in  us. 
Further,  Hamlet  may  have  been  one  of  those  men  who 
do  not  regard  the  lives  of  inferior  natures  as  sacred  — 
he  is  but  slightly  affected  by  the  death  of  Polonius, 
and  only  says :  *  Thou  wretched,  rash,  intruding  fool, 
farewell.  Take  thy  fortune.'  Even  the  just  Horatio  does 
not  exclaim  at  the  cruelty  of  sending  Rosencrantz  and 
Guildenstern  to  death,  but  thinks  only  of  the  conse- 
quences when  the  news  shall  reach  Denmark.  We  are 
not  entirely  justified  in  assuming  that  had  Hamlet  ac- 
companied the  envoys  to  England  he  would  not  have 
found  some  means  to  prevent  their  execution.  But  make 
the  best  we  can  of  it,  the  forgery  of  the  commission 
seems,  in  our  way  of  thinking,  a  piece  of  premeditated 
and  unnecessary  cruelty.  It  shows  that  Hamlet  could 
raise  his  hand  against  all  his  enemies  but  Claudius,  the 
very  one  he  should  have  attacked  promptly. 

Dr.  Bradley's  analysis  of  the  minor  characters  evinces 
the  same  keen  insight  into  human  nature.  Especially 
felicitous  are  his  words  on  the  Queen :  — 

The  Queen  was  not  a  bad-hearted  woman,  not  at  all  the 
woman  to  think  little  of  murder.  But  she  had  a  soft  animal 
nature,  and  was  very  dull  and  very  shallow.  She  loved  to  be 
happy,  like  a  sheep  in  the  sun  ;  and,  to  do  her  justice,  it 
pleased  her  to  see  others  happy,  like  more  sheep  in  the  sun.  It 
was  pleasant  to  sit  upon  her  throne  and  see  smiling  faces  round 
her,  and  foolish  and  unkind  in  Hamlet  to  persist  in  grieving 
for  his  father  instead  of  marrying  Ophelia  and  making  every- 
thing comfortable.  .  .  .  The  belief  at  the  bottom  of  her  heart 


334        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS   CRITICS 

was  that  the  world  is  a  place  constructed  simply  that  people 
may  be  happy  in  it  in  a  good-humoured  sensual  fashion. 

His  analysis  of  Ophelia  is  less  acute.  '  No  reasonable 
doubt,'  he  says,  '  can  be  felt  on  the  point  that  Hamlet 
was  once  sincerely  and  ardently  in  love  with  Ophelia.' 
'  But  his  love  was  not  an  absorbing  passion,'  and  '  after 
her  rejection  of  him  by  her  father's  command  it  was 
mingled  with  suspicion  and  resentment.'  Is  not  '  sin- 
cerely and  ardently '  too  strong  an  adverb  ?  Ophelia's 
nature  is  too  shallow  to  call  out  profound  love  in  one 
so  superior  to  her  both  emotionally  and  intellectually 
as  the  prince.  He  says  nothing  in  his  first  soliloquy  that 
indicates  such  feeling,  and  that  is  before  she  had  re- 
fused to  see  him.  Dr.  Bradley  points  out  that  she  was 
very  young  and  inexperienced,  and  motherless,  and  also 
that  after  a  '  storm  of  utterly  unjust  reproach  not  a 
thought  of  resentment  crosses  her  mind.'  But  this  indi- 
cates a  lack  of  spirit  and  of  self-respect  rather  than 
sweetness  and  unselfishness.  The  critic,  though  not 
carried  away  by  sympathy  for  Ophelia's  pathetic  fate, 
as  Coleridge  and  Hazlitt  and  Mrs.  Jameson  were,  can- 
not quite  resist  a  man's  natural  impulse  to  excuse  a 
young  girl.  It  may  be,  however,  that  it  is  not  just  to 
blame  a  passive  character  for  not  being  active  and  ener- 
getic. 

Of  King  Claudius  Dr.  Bradley  says  very  justly  that 
he  is  — 

very  interesting  both  psychologically  and  dramatically.  On 
the  one  hand  he  is  not  without  respectable  qualities.  As  a 
King  he  is  courteous  and  never  undignified.  He  performs  his 
ceremonial  duties  efficiently,  and  he  takes  good  care  of  the 
national  interests.  He  nowhere  shows  cowardice  .  .  .  Nor 
is  he  cruel  or  malevolent.  On  the  other  hand  he  is  no  tragic 
character.  He  had  a  small  nature.  .  .  .  He  was  a  villain  of 
no  force.  .  .  .  He  had  the  inclination  of  natures  physically 


CRITICISM  OF  TWENTIETH  CENTURY    335 

weak  and  morally  small  towards  intrigue  and  crooked  dealing. 
—  He  was  not  stupid,  but  rather  quick-witted  and  adroit. 

The  King  is  one  of  the  best  examples  to  prove  that 
Shakespeare  drew  at  once  types  and  individuals,  i.  e., 
typical  individuals.  The  criminal  of  this  stamp,  pompous, 
good-natured,  sly,  devoid  of  moral  principle,  but  with  a 
keen  perception  of  propriety  in  appearance  and  bearing, 
trusting  no  confederates,  capable  of  asking  his  Maker 
to  pardon  him  for  fratricide  at  the  very  moment  that  he 
is  planning  another  crime,  is  not  rare,  though  rarely 
detected.  But  Claudius  is  himself,  though  he  is  a  mem- 
ber of  the  great  tribe  of  shams.  Hamlet's  contempt  for 
him  and  the  fact  that  the  King  does  not  resent  public 
exhibitions  of  it,  —  apparently  it  does  not  touch  him 
in  the  least,  —  are  significant.  The  absence  of  force  in 
the  character  of  the  King  makes  more  puzzling  the 
question,  why  does  not  Hamlet  annihilate  him  at  once  ? 
In  the  first  quarto,  which  represents  the  play  before  the 
psychological  problem  on  which  the  later  version  turns 
had  taken  its  final  form  in  the  poet's  mind,  Claudius 
is  spoken  of  as  having — 

A  face  like  Vulcan. 
A  look  fit  for  a  murder  and  a  rape, 
A  dull  dead  hanging  look,  and  a  hell-bred  eye, 
To  affright  children  and  amaze  the  world. 

Shakespeare  never  showed  better  judgment  as  to  the 
effect  of  character  on  the  countenance  than  when  he 
erased  these  lines  and  let  us  imagine  Claudius  as  a 
man  of  mean  appearance,  —  a  mildewed  ear,  a  toad,  a 
bat,  and  bloated  by  excess  of  drinking. 

Dr.  Bradley  regards  Othello  as  the  most  painfully 
exciting  and  the  most  terrible  of  the  tragedies.  If  Des- 
demona  were  presented  by  an  actress  equal  to  Salvini 
in   Othello,   the    impression   would    be    unendurable. 


336        SHAKESPEARE  AND   HIS   CRITICS 

Othello,  he  thinks,  is  more  of  a  poet  than  Hamlet, 
though  not  possessing  Hamlet's  meditative  or  specula- 
tive imagination.  He  considers  Othello  to  be  a  Moor, 
not  a  negro,  but  thinks  that  Desdemona's  love  over- 
came a  racial  repugnance  no  less  strong  than  if  he  had 
been  a  negro.  But  is  it  not  rather  a  social  than  a  racial 
barrier  that  her  love  overcame  ?  Her  father  and  Emilia 
think  she  should  have  married  some  one  whose  name  was 
in  the  '  golden  book '  of  Venetian  aristocracy,  a  Moro- 
sini  or  a  Contarini,  one  of  '  the  wealthy  curled  darlings 
of  our  nation.'  The  Moor,  though  an  honored  soldier, 
was  a  foreign  adventurer,  to  Roderigo,  the  young  Vene- 
tian of  fashion,  he  seems  a  'wheeling  and  extravagant 
stranger.'  In  Dr.  Bradley's  analysis  of  the  character  of 
lago  he  shows  the  same  grasp  of  human  nature  evinced 
in  his  treatment  of  Hamlet,  lago's  absolute  antithesis. 
Referring  to  the  fact  that  lago  had  lived  to  early  man- 
hood without  being  found  out,  he  says :  — 

lago's  powers  of  dissimulation  and  of  self-control  must 
have  been  prodigious ;  for  he  was  not  a  youth  like  Edmund, 
but  had  worn  the  mask  for  years.  ...  In  fact,  so  prodigious 
does  his  self-control  appear  that  a  reader  might  be  excused 
for  feeling  a  doubt  of  its  possibility. 

Such  a  doubt  is  certainly  justifiable,  for  the  anteced- 
ents of  Lear,  Hamlet,  and  Macbeth  are  entirely  har- 
monious with  the  estimation  in  which  they  are  held  at 
the  beginning  of  the  play.  But  lago  is  shown  plucking 
the  gull  Roderigo  in  a  manner  which  evinces  long  prac- 
tice. How  is  it  possible  that  he  can  have  robbed  his 
victims  for  years  without  the  knowledge  of  his  fellow 
soldiers?  Such  a  man  soon  earns  his  reputation,  yet 
lago  is  called  '  honest '  by  all.  Again,  how  is  it  possible 
that  lago's  malevolence  was  not  called  out  till  he  was 
disappointed  in  his  promotion?   Circumstances  con  tin- 


CRITICISM  OF  TWENTIETH  CENTURY    337 

ually  conspire  to  test  the  patience  even  of  a  reasonable 
man.  It  seems  more  than  improbable  that  he  could 
have  concealed  his  nature  so  many  years  in  the  rough 
and  tumble  of  a  soldier's  life.  This  of  course  does  not 
bear  on  the  question  of  the  excellence  of  a  drama,  for 
the  position  at  the  opening  is  assumed  to  be  true ;  nor 
does  the  incongruity  between  the  reputation  and  the 
conduct  of  lago  strike  us  when  we  see  the  play ;  we  are 
so  taken  up  by  his  present  malevolence  that  we  think 
nothing  of  his  past.  Nevertheless,  this  is  the  only  one 
of  the  tragedies  where  a  man's  reputation  at  the  open- 
ing is  not  harmonious  with  his  character  and  previous 
surroundings  and  actions.  Macbeth  is  radically  weak 
and  bad,  but  the  temptation  of  finding  Duncan  in  his 
power  and  the  influence  of  his  wife  never  before  con- 
spired to  urge  him  to  crime.  He  had  waited  all  his  life 
for  just  the  necessary  conjunction.  Lear  is  plainly  a 
noble,  loving,  impetuous  nature,  which  during  a  very 
long  life  as  King  has  never  been  thwarted  and  never 
come  in  contact  with  the  realities  of  life.  But  lago  has 
not  only  concealed  his  real  nature,  but  has  built  up  a 
reputation  at  variance  with  his  conduct. 

Dr.  Bradley  considers  Lear  greater  as  a  dramatic 
poem  than  as  a  drama.  '  It  is  the  tragedy  in  which  evil 
is  shown  in  the  greatest  abundance,  and  the  evil  char- 
acters are  peculiarly  repellent  from  their  hard  sav- 
agery and  because  so  little  good  is  mingled  with  their 
evil.  The  effect  is,  therefore,  more  startling  than  else- 
where; it  is  even  appalling.'  But  'there  is  another 
aspect  of  Lear's  story,  the  influence  of  which  modifies 
the  impression  that  evil  is  all-powerful ' :  — 

There  is  nothing  more  noble  and  beautiful  in  literature 
than  Shakespeare's  exposition  of  the  effect  of  suffering  in 
reviving  the  greatness  and  eliciting  the  sweetness  of  Lear's 
nature.   The  occasional  occurrence,  during  his  madness,  of 


338        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

autocratic  impatience  or  of  desire  for  revenge  serves  only  to 
heighten  this  effect,  and  the  moments  when  his  insanity  be- 
comes merely  infinitely  piteous  do  not  weaken  it.  The  old 
King,  who  in  pleading  with  his  daughters,  feels  so  intensely 
his  own  humiliation  and  their  horrible  ingratitude,  and  who 
yet,  at  fourscore  and  upward,  constrains  himself  to  practise 
a  self-control  and  patience  so  many  years  disused ;  who  out 
of  old  affection  for  his  Fool,  and  in  repentance  for  his  injust- 
ice to  the  Fool's  beloved  mistress,  tolerates  incessant  and 
cutting  reminders  of  his  own  folly  and  wrong ;  in  whom  the 
rage  of  the  storm  awakes  a  power  and  a  poetic  grandeur  sur- 
passing even  that  of  Othello's  anguish;  who  comes  in  his 
affliction  to  think  of  others  first,  and  to  seek,  in  tender  solici- 
tude for  his  poor  boy,  the  shelter  he  scorns  for  his  own  bare 
head;  who  learns  to  feel  and  pray  for  the  miserable  and 
houseless  poor,  to  discern  the  falseness  of  flattery  and  the 
brutality  of  authority,  and  to  pierce  below  differences  of  rank 
and  raiment  to  the  common  humanity  beneath ;  whose  sight 
is  so  purged  by  scalding  tears  that  it  sees  at  last  how  power 
and  peace  and  all  things  in  the  world  are  vanity  except  love ; 
who  tastes  in  his  own  extreme  hours  the  extremes  of  love's 
raptures  and  of  its  agony,  but  could  never,  if  he  lived  on  or 
lived  again,  care  a  jot  for  aught  beside  —  there  is  no  figure, 
surely,  in  the  world  of  poetry  at  once  so  grand,  so  pathetic, 
and  so  beautiful  as  his.  Well,  but  Lear  owes  the  whole  of 
this  to  those  sufferings  which  made  us  doubt  whether  life 
were  not  simply  evil,  and  men  like  the  flies  which  wanton 
boys  torture  for  their  sport.  Should  we  not  at  least  be  as 
near  the  truth  if  we  called  this  poem  the  Redemption  of 
King  Lear,  and  declared  that  the  business  of  the  gods  with 
him  was  neither  to  torment  him,  nor  to  teach  him  a  noble 
anger,  but  to  lead  him  to  attain  through  apparently  hopeless 
failure  the  very  end  and  aim  of  life  ? 

Dr.  Bradley  is  as  satisfying  in  his  analysis  of  the 
minor  characters  as  in  his  criticism  of  the  philosophy 
and  the  construction  of  the  play.  His  chapters  on 
Macbeth  show  the  same  grasp  of  dramatic  principle 


CRITICISM  OF  TWENTIETH  CENTURY    339 

and  of  the  nature  of  poetry,  the  same  perception  of 
minute  artistic  beauty  and  the  same  comprehension  of 
human  character.  It  is  rare  that  these  critical  faculties 
are  united,  and  rarer  still  that  they  are  backed  by  pains- 
taking, minute  examination  of  the  subject-matter  criti- 
cised. Most  critics  are  satisfied  by  recording  general 
impressions  and  citing  the  passages  which  sustain  them, 
overlooking:  those  which  contradict.  This  is  the  habit 
of  Coleridge  and  his  contemporaries.  But  Dr.  Bradley 
does  not  generalize  without  giving  the  evidence  on  both 
sides,  and  if  the  deductions  from  the  various  passages 
cannot  be  reconciled,  he  does  not  hesitate  to  say  so. 
His  citations  are  much  fuller  than  those  of  any  other 
critic,  and  his  admiration  for  the  plays  does  not  pre- 
vent him  from  calling  attention  to  faults  of  construc- 
tion or  irreconcilable  statements  where  such  exist.  His 
notes  — ninety  pages  in  the  Appendix  —  are  full  of 
what  is  called  '  Shakespearean  scholarship,'  and  show 
that  mastery  of  minute  points  is  comparable  with 
breadth  of  view,  literary  appreciation,  and  practical 
knowledge  of  human  nature.  He  demonstrates  very 
plainly  that  it  is  impossible  to  construct  a  satisfactory 
time-scheme  for  Othello^  even  with  the  most  liberal 
interpretation  of  Professor  Wilson's  theory  of  a  double 
time-standard ;  that  is,  that  the  critical  and  exciting 
scenes  of  a  tragedy  seem  to  the  spectator  to  follow 
rapidly  and  uninterruptedly  and  that  Shakespeare  in- 
tends such  to  be  the  effect,  but  by  casual  remark  indi- 
cated sufficient  lapse  of  time  between  them  for  the 
normal  operation  of  cause  and  effect  or  for  the  move- 
ment of  his  characters  between  distant  points.  In 
Othello^  however,  there  is  no  possibility  that  all  the 
events  after  the  arrival  in  Cyprus  could  have  taken 
place  in  the  short  time  indicated,  nor  is  there  any 
place  between  the  scenes  when  we  could  conceive  suffi- 


340        SHAKESPEARE   AND   HIS   CRITICS 

cient  time  to  have  elapsed  to  render  their  sequence 
possible  without  contradicting  definite  statements.  Fre- 
quently Shakespeare  conceived  the  action  so  vividly 
that  his  plots  hang  together  like  natural  events,  but  it 
is  probably  out  of  the  question  for  any  artist  to  manu- 
facture a  story  in  which  there  shall  not  be  some  contra- 
dictions and  impossibilities.  A  rigid  cross-examination 
rarely  fails  to  detect  these  in  a  manufactured  story,  un- 
less the  witness  professes  to  forget  everything  but  one 
occurrence.  The  time-scheme  in  Hamlet  is  perfect  if 
we  allow  the  expression  '  It  is  a  nipping  and  an  eager 
air'  to  refer  to  the  chill  of  midnight,  not  to  that  of 
winter,  but  even  here  the  flowers  which  Ophelia  dis- 
tributes and  those  in  her  garland  belong  some  of  them 
to  June  and  others  to  August.  Thus  '  pansies '  bloom 
in  the  spring,  so  do  'crow-flowers'  (Ranunculi,  Butter- 
cups, Celandines,  etc.)  ;  '  long  purples '  blossom  in 
April  and  May,  but  'rosemary'  flowers  in  July  and 
August,  'fennel'  not  before  July,  and  no  variety  of 
'  nettle '  before  August.  Other  indications  point  to  late 
summer  as  the  date  of  the  drowning  of  Ophelia.  The 
matter  is  of  little  consequence,  but  shows  that  so  many 
little  circumstances  cohere  in  the  natural  sequence  of 
\  events  that  it  is  almost  out  of  the  question  to  construct 
^  a  story  which  shall  in  every  part  harmonize  with  reality. 
The  fifth  act  of  Hamlet  has  sometimes  been  criticised 
as  forced.  The  fencing  bout  is  clearly  to  be  a  passage 
with  blunted  weapons,  yet  Hamlet  feels  a  presentiment 
and  Horatio  counsels  him  to  withdraw  his  consent  if 
his  heart  misgives  him,  as  if  he  thought  the  contest 
dangerous.  When  the  fencers  meet,  Hamlet  does  not 
notice  that  Laertes  is  using  a  '  sword  unbated,'  —  that 
is,  without  a  button  on  the  end,  —  though  it  is  his  part 
to  keep  his  eye  on  his  opponent's  point,  till  he  is 
pricked.  He  '  touches '  Laertes  twice,  —  once  a  '  very 


CRITICISM  OF  TWENTIETH   CENTURY    341 

palpable  hit,'  without  drawing  blood,  showing  that  his 
foil  has  the  usual  button  on  the  end.  The  strange  thing 
is  that  neither  Osric,  the  umpire,  nor  the  calm  and 
watchful  Horatio  notices  that  Laertes  is  using  a  dan- 
gerous weapon.  The  moment  Hamlet  is  pricked  he  per- 
ceives the  treachery  —  probably  seizes  the  sword-hand 
of  Laertes  with  his  left  in  an  access  of  fury,  forces  the 
foil  from  his  grasp,  throws  his  own  on  the  ground,  and 
wounds  Laertes  severely,  for  he  dies  before  Hamlet.* 
Even  then  Hamlet  gives  no  sign  that  he  suspects  his 
uncle  till  his  mother  dies  and  Laertes  gasps  feebly, 
*  The  King  —  the  King 's  to  blame,'  when  he  at  once 
stabs  Claudius  with  such  force  that  he  dies  immediately, 
before  Laertes.  That  nobody  should  perceive  that 
Laertes  was  using  a  dangerous  weapon  is  inexplicable,^ 
but  the  audience  never  notices  it,  because  the  fact  that 
a  noble-minded  young  man  is  treacherously  killed  is 

^  The  superiority  of  Hamlet  over  Laertes  —  the  average  young 
man  —  in  physical  strength  is  evident  in  this  scene  and  the  grave- 
yard scene.  Clearly  he  was  no  nervous  weakling. 

*  With  regard  to  Horatio's  oversight  in  allowing  his  prince  to 
fence  against  an  opponent  using  an  unbated  point,  we  may  im- 
agine, if  we  are  liberal-minded,  that  Laertes  carefully  covered  the 
point  with  a  leather  button.  This  would  enable  him  to  say  after 
Hamlet's  death  that  his  was  one  of  the  '  foils  of  a  length '  and 
that  he  took  it  by  chance. 

It  is  possible,  too,  that  in  Shakespeare's  day  friendly  bouts  might 
easily  be  made  dangerous,  and  that  Hamlet,  knowing  this,  was 
justified  in  his  anticipation  of  possible  danger.  Mr.  Collier  quotes 
from  Maningham's  diary,  in  which  is  the  mention  of  the  acting  of 
Twelfth  Night :  '  Turner  and  Dun  played  their  prizes  this  day  at 
the  Bankside  ;  but  Turner  at  last  ran  Dun  so  farre  in  the  brayne 
at  the  Eye  that  he  fell  down  presently,  stone-dead.  A  goodly 
sport  in  a  Christian  state  to  see  one  man  kill  another.' 

Shakespeare  may  have  seen  this  occurrence,  and  must  have 
heard  of  it,  so  Hamlet  may  have  known  that  there  was  danger  in 
a  fencing  match,  but  not  have  dreamed  of  treachery  till  he  felt 
the  envenomed  point. 


\ 


342        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

so  fearfully  exciting  and  presented  with  such  force  that 
the  mind  is  filled  with  terror  and  pity  to  the  entire  ex- 
clusion of  the  analytical  power.  Emotion  is  so  forcibly 
aroused  that  reason  is  in  abeyance.  The  address  is  to 
the  imagination,  not  to  the  mind,  and  details  which  are 
not  part  of  the  tragic  movement  are  properly  omitted, 
though  they  must  have  happened  in  the  ordinary  se- 
quence of  events.  If  there  is  sometimes  no  intimation 
of  a  lapse  of  time  sufficient  for  them,  —  for  instance, 
for  news  of  the  '  grievous  wreck '  of  the  Turkish  fleet 
to  reach  Venice  and  the  appointment  of  Othello's  suc- 
cessor to  be  made  and  the  bearer  of  the  commission 
to  reach  Famagusta,  —  the  oversight  is  of  not  the 
slightest  consequence  artistically,  because  it  does  not 
detract  from  the  imaginative  power  of  the  drama.  It  is 
one  of  the  many  points  of  excellence  in  Dr.  Bradley's 
criticism  that  he  keeps  matters  of  constructive  de- 
tail subordinate  to  questions  of  effect  on  the  imagina- 
tion, though  his  ability  and  learning  in  dissecting  the 
former  is  of  the  highest  order. 

GEOKGE  PIEKCE  BAKER 

Professor  Baker's  /Shakespeare  as  a  Dramatist  is 
characterized  by  the  genial,  urbane  common  sense  of 
modern  Harvard  scholarship.  The  author  bases  his 
thesis  solidly  on  facts,  and  brings  to  their  interpreta- 
tion his  practical  experience  in  reproducing  at  Cam- 
bridge Elizabethan  plays  on  an  Elizabethan  stage.  He 
seeks  to  visualize  Shakespeare's  plays  as  they  were  first 
represented.  He  takes  the  ground  that  in  criticising 
the  dramas  of  any  period  we  must  consider  the  theatre 
of  the  period  and  the  audiences  of  the  period,  their 
habits  of  thought  and  their  prejudice  in  favor  of  the 
stories  and  the  method  of  treatment  to  which  they 
were  accustomed.  Novelties  in  the  theatre  make  their 


CRITICISM  OF  TWENTIETH   CENTURY    343 

way  slowly  even  now,  and  are  subject  to  the  approval 
of  the  audience.  The  author  of  a  play  must  write 
with  his  spectators  in  mind.  Consequently,  every  artist, 
especially  every  dramatic  artist,  must  learn  his  trade 
and  regard  himself  as  a  continuation  of  his  predeces- 
sors. All  that  genius  can  do  is  to  develop  the  method 
in  vogue  and  improve  by  practice ;  but  it  may  develop 
a  crude  method  and  make  it  applicable  to  productions 
far  superior  to  those  it  takes  for  models.  It  puts  new 
wine  into  bottles  very  similar  to  the  old  ones.  Dryden 
was  therefore  entirely  wrong  in  making  Shakespeare 
say :  — 

Untaught,  unpractised,  in  a  barbarous  age, 
I  found  not,  but  created  first  the  stage. 

Shakespeare  was  neither  a  genius  independent  of 
old  traditions,  striking  out  a  new  form  of  art,  nor  was 
he  merely  a  superior  craftsman,  slavishly  bound  by 
commercial  considerations,  producing  poetic  dramas  un- 
wittingly, and  '  growing  great  in  his  own  despite.*  At 
first  he  was  deficient  in  the  art  of  telling  a  story  dra- 
matically, as  an  examination  of  Lovers  Labour  's  Lost 
and  the  Tivo  Gentlemen  of  FeT-OTia  shows.  But  the  action 
of  the  Comedy  of  Errors  and  of  Midsummer  NigMs 
Dream  shows  improving  skill,  and  in  the  Merchant 
of  Venice  he  proves  that  he  has  learned  how  to  con- 
catenate the  incidents  of  a  play  and  weave  three  stories 
into  one  so  as  to  hold  the  attention  of  his  audience  and 
not  shock  them  with  palpable  improbabilities.  In  the 
historic  plays  he  was  bound  more  or  less  by  the  record, 
which  might  cover  a  series  of  episodes  of  equal  import- 
ance. Here  he  soon  learned  to  attain  unity  by  concen- 
trating interest  on  a  single  strong  character  like  Richard 
III,  or  to  relieve  the  pageant-like  chronicle  with  a 
group  of  realistic  figures  like  Falstaff  and  his  bench- 


344        SHAKESPEARE  AND   HIS   CRITICS 

men.  Then,  when  he  went  on  to  higher  comedy  and 
tragedy,  he  developed  still  further  the  art  of  putting 
on  the  stage  interesting  and  attractive  individuals 
whose  characters  have  both  background  and  foreground. 
Consequently  they  are  not  only  effective  stage  figures, 
but  they  are  types  of  humanity  as  true  for  one  genera- 
tion as  for  another,  for  the  background  of  character  is 
the  same  now  as  it  was  in  the  seventeenth  century.  In  a 
word,  Shakespeare  developed  normally,  and  by  exer- 
cising his  great  natural  powers  in  the  same  field  with 
his  contemporaries ;  learning  one  thing  at  a  time, 
sometimes  neglecting  one  province  of  his  art  tempora- 
rily by  reason  of  his  interest  in  another,  his  eye  in 
writing  always  on  the  theatre  and  the  audience,  and 
yet  not  disobedient  to  the  heavenly  vision,  a  conscien- 
tious artist  creating  beautiful  things  and  yet  a  drama- 
tist writing  for  the  contemporary  stage,  a  poet  but  a 
friend  and  fellow  in  a  cry  of  actors. 

All  this  and  much  more  in  detail  Professor  Baker 
makes  clear  and  definite  by  reference  to  the  plays 
themselves.  The  artistic  and  professional  life  of  the 
dramatist  has  never  before  been  made  so  comprehen- 
sible and  convincing  and  so  within  the  common  law. 
This  common-sense  exposition  is  much  more  satisfactory 
than  Professor  Dowden's  attribution  of  the  plays  to 
life  periods  dominated  by  various  moods :  the  joyous 
period  of  youth,  the  disillusionment  and  gloom  of  early 
manhood,  the  profound  pessimistic  philosophy  of  ma- 
turity, and  the  tranquil  reconcilement  of  age,  thus 
making  the  character  of  the  plays  depend  on  the 
way  the  writer  felt  or  on  some  heart-searching  ex- 
perience, and  not  on  what  he  had  learned  of  his  pro- 
fession ;  on  stages  in  the  soul-history  of  the  author 
instead  of  on  stages  in  his  technical  skill  and  slowly 
acquired  knowledge  of  men  and  things  combined  with 


CRITICISM  OF  TWENTIETH  CENTURY    345 

the  general  development  of  the  drama  and  the  chang- 
ing taste  of  audiences.  Perhaps  such  periods  did 
exist,  certainly  Shakespeare  acquired  with  years  and 
experience  insight  into  more  than  technical  method ; 
but  a  man  writing  for  the  public  must  consult  its 
taste  and  not  his  own,  and  must  subdue  his  spirit  to 
what  it  works  in.  At  all  events  here  are  the  plays  to 
prove,  by  citation  of  scene  and  line,  increasing  skill  in 
first  one  part  of  the  dramatic  art  and  then  in  another; 
whereas  periods  of  joy,  depression,  despair,  and  re- 
concilement, still  more  a  reason  for  such  periods,  can 
be  inferred  only  indirectly  and  by  the  exercise  of  con- 
siderable imagination.  The  development  of  power  in 
constructing  a  plot  and  in  creating  characters  is  vastly 
more  important  than  the  changes  in  metrical  usage 
the  plays  display,  of  which  Mr.  Fleay  makes  so  much. 
The  first  is  part  of  the  intellectual  effort  put  forth 
by  the  artist ;  the  metrical  form  is  merely  the  clothing 
of  the  thought. 

The  same  vigorous  adherence  to  fact  and  use  of 
conjecture  only  when  there  is  no  other  way  to  harmo- 
nize imperfect  knowledge  marks  Professor  Baker's 
chapters  on  the  Elizabethan  theatre.  It  is  extremely 
probable  that,  when  there  were  half  a  dozen  theatres 
competing  for  patronage,  new  mechanical  devices  would 
be  invented  and  tried  continually.  There  are  always 
among  the  English  some  ingenious  mechanics  in  every 
art,  and  there  was  the  example  of  the  court  masques  to 
stimulate  invention.  A  stage  as  large  as  that  at  the 
Fortune,  '  fortie  and  three  foote  of  lawful  assize  in 
length '  and  at  least  twenty-eight  feet  deep,  indicates 
that  the  business  of  theatrical  presentation  had  de- 
veloped in  magnitude.  As  it  did  so,  it  would  also 
attract  to  itself  such  ingenious  devices  as  commended 
themselves  to  the  managers.  Professor  Baker's  illus- 


346        SHAKESPEARE  AND   HIS   CRITICS 

trations  enable  us  to  get  a  very  clear  idea  of  the 
stage  of  Shakespeare's  day.  It  was  a  large  platform, 
not  quite  as  high  as  the  head  of  a  man,  projecting 
into  the  uncovered  central  part  of  the  building.  In 
it  about  halfway  from  the  front  were  two  pillars  sup- 
porting a  roof  over  the  rear  part,  at  the  back  was  a 
balcony,  and  under  the  balcony  was  a  space  at  the 
back  of  which  were  doors  for  entrance  of  the  actors. 
The  interesting  question  is,  how  far  were  hangings  or 
painted  scenery  used,  and  how  far  did  the  manager 
avail  himself  of  the  use  of  curtains.  As  Professor 
Baker  very  sensibly  says,  no  two  Elizabethan  stages 
were  exactly  alike  in  all  appointments,  and  this,  in- 
deed, shows  that  improvements  were  being  made.  As 
to  the  use  of  scenery,  it  would  seem  that  '  painted 
cloths '  were  used  in  the  upper  part  above  the  balcony. 
It  would  require  but  very  little  ingenuity  to  devise 
something  to  make  the  space  underneath  represent 
Prospero's  cell,  or  the  cave  dwelling  of  Belarius,  which 
Imogen  enters. 

With  regard  to  the  use  of  a  blanket  or  curtain,  it 
undoubtedly  served  to  shut  off  the  upper  stage,  —  the 
space  under  the  balcony,  —  so  that  Prosper©  could 
'  discover '  (uncover)  '  Ferdinand  and  Miranda  playing 
at  chess.'  Whether  a  curtain  was  ever  suspended  on  a 
rope  between  the  pillars  so  as  to  make  a  front  stage,  a 
middle  stage,  and  an  upper  or  rear  stage  under  the 
balcony,  besides  the  balcony  itself,  is  not  absolutely 
certain,  but  is  highly  probable  from  the  citations  Pro- 
fessor Baker  gives,  which  indeed  cannot  well  be  inter- 
preted on  any  other  theory.  Nor  does  it  seem  possible 
that  'old  stuttering  Heming'  or  whoever  else  had 
charge  of  the  stage  arrangements  could  have  over- 
looked so  obvious  a  device,  and  one  which  would  give 
so  valuable  an  addition  to  stage  effects.  Altogether,  the 


CRITICISM  OF  TWENTIETH  CENTURY    347 

stage  offered  the  playwright  more  resources  for  theatri- 
cal effect  than  Coleridge  imagined. 

Professor  Baker  regards  the  plays  primarily  as  acting 
plays,  and  never  for  a  moment  strays  beyond  his  thesis, 
the  '  development  of  Shakespeare  as  a  dramatist.'  But 
he  is  far  more  than  an  antiquarian  seeking  to  visualize 
material  conditions  long  passed.  He  needs  a  clear  idea 
of  the  theatre,  to  show  how  and  where  and  when  the 
author  took  forward  steps.  Here  and  there  we  see  that  he 
appreciates  the  aesthetic  value  of  the  plays,  the  beauty 
of  the  phrasing,  and  the  light  thrown  on  human  char- 
acter, but  those  are  not  his  present  theme.  He  adheres 
to  his  point  of  view,  which  is  more  than  some  scholars 
do.  In  insisting  that  the  ordinary  uncritical  theatre- 
goer is  more  interested  in  a  story  than  in  a  character  in 
a  story,  he  hardly  does  justice  to  that  convenient  per- 
son, the  *  average  man.'  Of  course  we  average  men  like 
a  story ;  we  like  to  see  things  happen,  we  love  a  fight, 
—  second  hand ;  many  of  us,  when  young,  first  hand,  — 
and  therefore  go  to  football  games.  Energizing,  phys- 
ically and  intellectually,  is  life,  and  we  average  men 
like  to  live  and  to  see  younger  men  live  more  energeti- 
cally than  we  can.  We  like  to  follow  the  adventures  of 
a  man  or  a  set  of  men  with  whom  we  have  become  ac- 
quainted, for  we  thereby  '  economize  attention  '  and  get 
more  impressions  from  a  certain  amount  of  exertion. 
We  like  the  events  of  a  story  to  be  concatenated  and 
to  lead  to  something,  so  that  each  adds  to  a  remembered 
pleasure.  We  do  like  a  story,  a  story  with  action  and 
unity,  and  we  leave  to  our  betters  pleasure  in  psycho- 
logical problems.  But  we  are  social  animals  and  sympa- 
thetic animals,  and  we  attach  ourselves  to  those  of  our 
fellows  who  seem  to  typify  what  we  should  like  to  be,  or 
who  possess  qualities  that  contribute  to  the  ongoing  of 
the  race.  So  in  a  mimetic  representation  we  like  to  see 


348        SHAKESPEARE   AND   HIS  CRITICS 

a  man  in  action,  exciting,  interesting  action,  making 
love,  combating  an  enemy,  or  extricating  himself  from 
danger,  subject  to  good  or  evil  chance.  But  the  person 
must  be  an  interesting  person,  otherwise  we  soon  tire 
of  his  adventures.  If  he  possesses  physical  strength  and 
grace,  he  is  to  a  certain  extent  admirable  ;  if  he  pos- 
sesses force  of  will  and  mental  power,  like  Richard  III, 
he  may  have  an  abiding  attraction  even  if  he  is  bad,  for 
those  qualities  are  necessary  to  the  welfare  of  society, 
and  we  instinctively  regard  the  man  with  favor.  If  he 
is  refined  and  intellectual  and  of  a  thoroughly  kind 
nature,  if  he  sympathizes  with  humanity  freely  and 
easily,  we  are  sometimes  irresistibly  attracted  to  him, 
even  if,  as  in  the  case  of  Hamlet,  his  motives  are  so 
complex  as  to  be  unreadable.  In  other  words,  it  is  the 
character  that  attracts  the  majority  of  spectators  in  a 
theatre,  not  the  story  alone ;  and  Shakespeare  drew 
characters,  not  to  practice  his  highest  art,  but  because 
men  like  men  even  in  the  mimic  world.  Several  of  his 
contemporaries,  notably  Fletcher,  told  a  story  in  scenes 
and  acts  as  well  as  he,  and  we  are  tired  of  them,  not 
because  they  are  old-fashioned,  but  rather  because  their 
characters  are  not  men  and  women,  but  merely  names 
prefixed  to  theatrical  parts.  Professor  Baker  points  out 
very  clearly  the  increase  in  the  power  of  presenting 
character  —  accompanied  very  likely  by  an  increase  in 
knowledge  of  the  depths  of  human  nature  —  which 
marked  the  career  of  Shakespeare,  which  is  no  less  dis- 
tinct, though  developing  later,  than  his  skill  in  telling  a 
story  in  dramatic  dialogue.  It  is  the  plays  in  which 
appear  the  characters  with  charm,  Viola,  Beatrice, 
Rosalind,  Portia,  Hamlet,  or  with  power,  like  Lear, 
Macbeth,  and  Othello,  that  have  survived  on  the  stage 
by  reason  of  the  favor  of  audiences.  Shakespeare's  name 
carries  some  of  the  others,  like  The  Taming  of  the 


CRITICISM  OF  TWENTIETH   CENTURY    349 

Shrew^  aud  his  poetry  or  wit  carries  others  as  dramas 
to  read,  like  Midsummer  Nighfs  Dream  and  Henry 
IV.  The  story  of  Hamlet  might  be  told  with  the  Prince 
in  the  background,  but  the  expression  '  Hamlet  with 
the  part  of  Hamlet  omitted '  testifies  that  the  character 
of  the  prince  is  the  central  and  perennial  attraction. 
The  story  might  be  told  and  the  poetry  but  slightly 
weakened  if  the  prince  did  not  appear ;  but  when  the 
soul  is  out  the  play  is  dead.  The  uncritical  spectator 
feels  the  attraction  of  this  character  as  well  as  any  one, 
though  he  is  totally  unable  to  analyze,  much  less  to 
formulate,  his  impressions.  It  is  the  boy  in  us  —  a 
large  part  —  that  loves  a  story ;  the  man  loves  to  come 
in  contact  with  a  strong  man,  or  a  brilliant  man,  or  a 
good  man,  and  to  surrender  to  him.  In  life  we  are  con- 
stantly fooled  by  sham  men  and  women,  who  seem  brave 
and  unselfish,  but  in  Shakespeare's  world  we  are  never 
disappointed.  There  is  always  more  in  his  people  — 
good  or  bad  —  than  we  thought  at  first,  and  therefore 
some  of  his  plays  retain  their  hold  on  the  public  as 
plays,  not  merely  as  dramatic  stories. 

Professor  Baker  does  not  go  nearly  so  far  as  the  above 
would  imply.  Indeed,  he  says :  '  Like  the  child,  an  au- 
dience, loving  story-telling  for  its  own  sake,  craves  some 
compelling  figure  whom  it  can  follow  sympathetically 
or  even  with  fascinated  abhorrence.'  But  again  he  says : 
'  In  reading  it  is  characterization  which  tells  most ;  but 
on  the  stage,  it  is  a  story  in  action.'  The  character-in- 
terest does  more  than  enhance  or  unify  the  story-inter- 
est on  the  stage,  it  is  an  independent  element  also.  The 
action  of  the  character  may  be  largely  a  subjective  or 
internal  struggle,  embarrassing  to  the  movement  of  the 
plot.  The  uncritical  spectator  discerns  it,  perhaps  better 
than  the  critic,  and  is  moved  by  it  if  the  art  is  of  a  high 
order.   Phrasing  and  story-telling  are  important,  but 


350        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS   CRITICS 

Shakespeare's  supremacy  depends  on  his  mastery  in  the 
most  difficult  and  telling  part  of  the  dramatist's  art, 
the  ability  to  conceive  and  draw  characters  which  inter- 
est and  attract. 

Professor  Baker's  book  illustrates  the  sane  and 
judicial  method  of  twentieth-century  scholarship,  which 
investigates  carefully  the  minutiae  of  a  subject  without 
ignoring  the  architectonics,  the  higher  things  and  the 
broad  principles.  It  avoids  the  error  of  materialism, 
which  sometimes  attempts  to  formulate  the  phenomena 
of  a  higher  order  of  facts  in  terms  of  the  categories  of 
a  lower  order  of  facts,  and  also  the  error  of  ultra-ro- 
manticism, which  assumes  that  the  higher  order  of  facts 
exists  in  a  rarefied  atmosphere,  independent  of  ordinary 
mundane  conditions.  It  bears  much  the  same  relation 
to  the  Coleridgean  criticism  that  Professor  James's 
pragmatism  does  to  the  Hegelian  philosophy.  The  thesis 
that  the  theatre  reflects  the  national  life  is  carried 
through  the  book  as  a  Leit-motiv^  but  it  is  applied  with 
reference  to  known  facts  of  our  own  day  and  of  history, 
and  to  the  permanent  attributes  of  human  nature.  The 
Elizabethan  stage  is  portrayed  as  it  reaUy  was,  not  es- 
sentially cheap  and  makeshift  because  it  lacked  the  in- 
genious mechanism  of  our  theatres,  but  a  place  where  a 
dramatist  could  make  the  same  appeal  to  his  audience 
he  tries  to  make  to-day.  Consequently  the  impression 
we  gather  from  Professor  Baker's  pages  about  the  poet 
and  his  career  and  the  original  effect  of  the  plays  is 
more  full  and  rounded  and,  we  instinctively  feel,  truer 
than  anything  romanticism  can  furnish.  The  book  is 
literary  criticism  because,  in  a  measure,  it  enables  us  to 
see  the  plays  as  the  author  and  his  friends  saw  them, 
and  to  correlate  them  with  the  society  of  the  day  and  of 
our  own  century. 


CRITICISM  OF  TWENTIETH  CENTURY    351 

CHARLTON  M.   LEWIS 

Professor  Lewis's  essay,  The  Genesis  of  Hamlet^ 
collects  all  the  arguments  in  support  of  the  theory  that 
the  first  dramatic  presentation  of  the  story  of  Hamlet 
was  by  William  Kyd,  about  1590,  who  took  the  prin- 
cipal incidents  of  the  plot  from  an  English  translation 
(or  the  original)  of  a  historic  novel  in  French,  itself 
based  on  a  much  earlier  story  in  Latin  by  a  Dane  known 
as  Saxo-Grammaticus.  From  this  play  of  Kyd's,  of  which 
we  have  no  copy,  proceeded,  by  the  usual  process  of  re- 
production and  rewriting,  the  play  by  Shakespeare  pre- 
served for  us  in  the  imperfectly  reported  first  quarto 
printed  in  1603.  Next  year  appeared  the  second  quarto, 
nearly  twice  as  long  and  much  elaborated  in  style  and 
incident.  This  is  the  complete  play,  as  we  have  it,  for 
the  copy  in  the  folio  is  the  same  with  some  omissions. 

Furthermore,  there  is  a  crude  German  play,  using  the 
Hamlet  plot  in  most  of  its  features,  which  can  be  traced 
back  to  1710,  but  is  evidently  a  work  of  a  much  earlier 
date.  The  source  of  this  was  on  the  first  casual  reading 
supposed  to  be  the  first  Shakespearean  quarto,  but  ex- 
amination shows  that  the  two  are  in  parallel  states  of 
development  and  must  be  derivatives  from  the  same  orig- 
inal, the  hypothetical  lost  play  by  Kyd.  We  have  there- 
fore the  germ,  the  Hystorie  of  Hamhlet ;  we  postulate 
a  missing  link ;  and  we  have  a  German  and  an  English 
derivative  from  the  missing  link  and  the  final,  highly 
developed  English  organism.  The  problem  is  to  recon- 
struct the  missing  link  with  the  merest  hint  of  a  fossil 
bone  in  a  pamphlet  of  the  period.  We  have  the  two  ends 
of  the  series,  the  secondary  form,  and  the  abortive  Ger- 
man by-product,  and  some  knowledge  of  the  environment 
in  which  the  missing  link  grew,  the  method  and  man- 
ner of  the  dramatist  Kyd  in  constructing  a  tragedy. 


352        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS   CRITICS 

Reasoning  from  effect  to  cause  is  a  hazardous  pro- 
ceeding, especially  when  the  cause  is  multifarious,  and 
one  of  the  elements,  the  genius  of  Shakespeare,  out- 
weighs all  the  rest  in  efficiency  in  the  ratio  of  fifty  to 
one.  Professor  Lewis's  argument  is  admirably  lucid, 
and  is  cogent  as  far  as  meagre  circumstantial  evidence 
can  make  a  case.  That  Kyd  did  write  a  play  on  the 
subject  seems  about  as  certain  as  anything  can  be  which 
is  not  definitely  stated  in  the  literature  of  the  period. 
That  the  German  play  was  derived  from  this  seems 
more  than  probable.  That  Kyd's  play  suggested  to 
Shakespeare  to  write  a  play  on  the  same  subject  from 
a  totally  different  (because  Shakespearean)  standpoint, 
seems  hardly  less  so.  That  he  carelessly  left  in  his  fin- 
ished work  some  expressions  or  hints  of  situations  to  be 
found  in  the  original  which  do  not  seem  strictly  in  line 
with  any  reasonable  theory  of  his  characters  or  plot, 
may  be  possible.  These  incongruities  —  survivals  or 
atrophied  organs  in  tlie  process  of  evolution  —  Professor 
Lewis  points  out  with  great  acuteness,  and  his  hand- 
ling makes  the  subject  extremely  interesting.  But  when 
he  says  that  the  'composite  Hamlet  is  not  an  entity  at 
all,  and,  therefore,  not  a  subject  for  psychological  ana- 
lysis,' we  cannot  follow  him.  As  well  say  that  a  man 
is  not  a  physiological  entity  because  he  has  a  pineal 
gland  and  a  vermiform  appendix,  or  not  a  psychologi- 
cal entity  because,  in  addition  to  the  habits  imposed 
'on  him  by  his  bringing  up,  he  is  swayed  by  instincts  of 
cruelty  —  and  loyalty  —  derived  from  his  barbarian  for- 
bears. 

The  fact  is,  psychological  analysis  cannot  be  applied 
to  men  of  the  Hamlet  type  until  it  has  developed  much 
further  than  it  has  to-day.  Every  day  we  attribute  the 
actions  of  ordinary  men  to  a  set  of  everyday  motives : 
love,  family  affection,  greed,  vanity,  love  of  applause, 


CRITICISM  OF  TWENTIETH   CENTURY    353 

selfishness,  envy,  and  the  like.  If  their  actions  cannot 
be  motived  in  any  one  of  these  convenient  categories, 
we  say  they  are  unaccountable,  that  is,  the  man  in 
an  analysis  is  a  fool  or  a  lunatic.  If  he  does  something 
particularly  brave  or  unselfish,  the  reason  for  which  we 
cannot  find  in  our  own  little  list,  we  feel  that  there  was 
a  reason  for  it  in  his  character,  though  we  cannot  give 
it  a  name.  It  is  impossible  to  predict  how  a  man  of  high 
intellectual  qualities  and  a  specially  developed  emo- 
tional nature  will  act  in  circumstances  that  try  his  soul. 
When  he  does  act,  it  is  impossible  to  explain  exactly 
why  he  did  what  he  did.  He  did  it  because  he  was  him- 
self. Hamlet  is  a  type  of  such  a  man,  highly  wrought 
emotionally,  highly  developed  intellectually,  and  placed 
in  distressing  circumstances.  Because  we  are  unable 
formally  to  analyze  the  complex  motives  of  such  a  man 
when  his  action  seems  contradictory,  gives  us  no  right 
to  say  —  as  his  friends  said  of  Shelley  —  that  he  is 
not  an  entity  or  not  a  normal  man.  Problems  insoluble 
to  plane  geometry  yield  to  calculus ;  but  we  still  ana- 
lyze character  by  elementary  methods.  A  chemist,  find- 
ing a  refractory  compound,  does  not  at  once  decide 
that  it  is  non-reducible.  He  tries  to  improve  his  ap- 
paratus. 

Only  a  small  fraction  of  what  Hamlet  does  can  be 
referred  to  ordinary,  comprehensible  motives.  Pie  joins 
the  guardsmen  in  watching  for  the  reappearance  of 
his  father's  ghost,  incited  by  reverence  and  wonder. 
Seeking  an  interview  with  Ophelia  after  he  had  been 
moping  in  the  palace  — '  foregoing  all  custom  of  exer- 
cise '  —  for  two  months  might  be  attributed  to  a  des- 
perate desire  to  find  out  whether  there  was  one  woman 
in  the  world  with  a  soul.  The  scheme  of  the '  Mouse-trap ' 
may  have  been  formed  from  the  natural  wish  to  obtain 
corroborative  evidence.   Refraining  from  attacking  the 


354        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

King  when  praying  is  the  result  of  a  religious  belief  held 
by  his  contemporaries.  He  acts  with  a  direct  view  to 
results  when  he  forges  the  commission  on  shipboard, 
and  in  killing  Polonius  he  thinks  he  is  accomplishing 
an  object.  But  everything  else  he  does  is  the  result 
of  his  character  and  the  state  of  his  mind.  What  is 
the  object  of  his  brutal  treatment  of  Ophelia  and  her 
father,  of  his  *  wild  and  whirling  words,'  of  his  bitter 
reproaches  to  his  mother,  of  his  absurd  willingness  to 
fence  for  a  wager  when  he  has  serious  business  on 
hand?  These  are  not  actions  prompted  by  a  simple 
motive  —  or  by  any  comprehensible  balance  of  motives 
—  such  as  we  find  in  the  everyday  man  when  he  '  makes 
up  his  mind.'  They  are  the  result  of  a  peculiar  con- 
geries of  emotional  capacities  worked  on  by  distressing 
events.  Judged  by  the  ordinary  workings  of  the  human 
mind,  his  nature  is  inexplicable.  We  feel  certain,  how- 
ever, that  high  and  noble  qualities  —  love  of  his  fellows, 
a  horrified  disdain  of  vice,  an  inability  to  compromise 
with  evil  — are  moving  him,  we  cannot  tell  exactly  how, 
because  the  way  is  beyond  the  reaches  of  our  intellect. 
But  that  is  no  reason  that  we  should  not  speculate  about 
the  way,  for  coming  into  imperfect  contact  with  a  rare 
and  noble  character  is  a  better  education  than  scien- 
tifically analyzing  thousands  of  the  average  men  who 
crawl  between  earth  and  heaven.  Hamlet  himself  is 
confident  that  he  will  be  justified  if  he  is  'reported 
aright  to  the  unsatisfied,'  but  the  report  must  be  made 
by  one  who  '  held  him  in  his  heart.' 

Professor  Lewis  argues  that  since  the  obstacles  to 
the  hero's  revenge  in  the  Hystorie  and  in  the  German 
Hamlet  were  objective  they  were  so  in  Kyd's  Hamlet, 
The  German  Hamlet  feigns  madness  deliberately  to 
secure  his  own  safety.  He  says  he  cannot  attack  the 
King  because  he  is  'guarded.'   'He  has  no  qualms 


CRITICISM  OF  TWENTIETH  CENTURY    355 

of  conscience,  no  hesitation  or  irresolution ' ;  he  never 
loses  sight  of  his  object,  which  is  revenge  and  to  gain 
the  kingdom  for  himself.  Now  Shakespeare,  at  the 
period  of  writing  this  play,  was  more  intent  on  character 
than  on  plot,  although  a  past-master  of  construction. 
Adventures  were  not  so  much  to  him  as  were  people 
undergoing  adventures.  He  minimized  external  dan- 
gers —  as  Professor  Lewis  says,  '  resolved  them  into 
the  fourth  dimension.'  Professor  Lewis  is  of  the  opin- 
ion, however,  that  certain  parts  of  the  action  originally 
motived  by  external'  danger  to  the  hero  were  retained 
by  Shakespeare  or  allowed  to  remain  when  the  reason 
for  their  existence  had  been  taken  away,  and  that  in 
consequence  the  dramatic  action  is  '  in  some  features  in- 
explicable.' This  may  well  be,  and  the  theory  affords  a 
means  of  confessing  and  avoiding  the  difficulties  found 
in  making  the  conduct  of  the  play  conform  to  compre- 
hensible cause  and  effect. 

The  essayist  in  support  of  the  above  proposition 
points  out  that  in  the  original  Hystorie  and  in  the  Ger- 
man Hamlet^  or  Fratricide  Punished^  and  presumably 
in  Kyd's  Hamlet^  the  obstacles  the  hero  must  overcome 
were  objective,  —  he  could  not  safely  attack  the  King 
because  he  was  'guarded.'  His  scheme  of  feigning 
madness  is  therefore  not  purposeless,  because  he  was 
an  object  of  suspicion.  Shakespeare's  Hamlet  is,  how- 
ever, in  no  immediate  danger  until  he  himself  arouses 
the  suspicion  of  the  King.  Yet  as  soon  as  he  has  re- 
ceived the  disclosure  of  the  ghost  he  administers  to  the 
guardsmen  a  solemn  oath :  — 

Here,  as  before,  never,  so  help  you  mercy, 

How  strange  or  odd  soe'er  I  bear  myself, 

As  I  perchance  hereafter  shall  think  meet 

To  put  an  antic  disposition  on, 

That  you,  at  such  times  seeing  me,  never  shall,  .  .  , 


356        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

[By]  such  ambiguous  giving  out,  to  note 
That  you  know  aught  of  me. 

As  Professor  Lewis  justly  says,  *  To  present  him  as 
resolving  on  the  pretense  (a  totally  unnecessary  one)  in 
the  white  heat  of  his  first  wrath  and  vindictiveness  is  very 
doubtful  psychology.'  The  words,  therefore,  he  thinks, 
are  a  part  of  the  old  play  left  in  the  new  one.  But 
cannot  we  regard  the  words  as  a  survival  as  words,  but 
not  in  the  old  sense  ?  Hamlet  is  in  such  a  condition 
that  he  cannot  be  held  strictly  responsible  for  what  he 
says.  Why  should  there  not  drift  through  his  mind 
the  idea,  '  This  is  going  to  be  too  much  for  me.  I  must 
let  myself  go  occasionally  as  I  did  a  moment  ago.  I 
must  tell  my  friends  not  to  notice  my  behavior.'  So 
that  the  words  are  not  the  formation  of  a  definite  plan, 
but  an  apology  in  advance  for  what  seemed  to  the 
speaker  inevitable. 

In  the  German  play  Hamlet  is  about  to  disclose  to 
Horatio  and  Francisco  the  message  of  the  ghost,  and 
desists  and  requests  secrecy  because  he  thinks  that  the 
underground  words  of  the  ghost  indicate  displeasure. 
He  tells  Horatio  what  the  ghost  said  as  soon  as  Fran- 
cisco has  gone.  In  the  Shakespeare  play  Hamlet  of  his 
own  motion  insists  on  non-disclosure,  even  of  the  fact 
that  the  guardsmen  have  seen  the  ghost.  This  injunc- 
tion is  quite  as  foolish  as  his  decision  to  feign  madness. 
He  might  reasonably  have  confided  in  Horatio.  Kyd 
invented  the  ghost  and  the  underground  echo, '  Swear.' 
It  would  be  rather  derogatory  to  Shakespeare  to  say 
that  he  retained  the  underground  business  on  account 
of  the  excellent  theatrical  effect,  leaving  the  request 
for  secrecy  apparently  motiveless,  and  it  is  certainly  as 
much  so  as  the  request  to  his  friends  not  to  notice  his 
future  antics.  It  is  better  to  say  that  both  requests  are 
indications  of  a  perturbed  mind,  no  less  so  than  his  *  wild 


CRITICISM   OF  TWENTIETH   CENTURY    367 

and  whirling  words,"  which  cause  Horatio  to  forget  for 
the  moment  the  respect  due  to  his  prince.* 

Professor  Lewis  is  of  the  opinion  that  there  is  no- 
thing to  indicate  that  Shakespeare  ever  read  the  Hamlet 
story  in  the  French  of  Belleforest  or  in  the  English 
translation ;  or,  in  other  words,  that  the  missing  play 
by  Kyd  alone  furnished  the  suggestions  of  incident  and 
character  worked  up  into  Hamlet^  Prince  of  Denmark, 
But  there  is  one  plot-element  in  the  crude  mediaeval 
novel  as  translated  by  the  Frenchman  which  is  almost 
entirely  obliterated  in  the  German  play.  It  was  there- 
fore presumably  not  used  by  Kyd,  a  supposition  made 
more  likely  by  the  fact  that  it  furnishes  a  psychic  mo- 
tive altogether  too  profound  for  any  one  but  the  master, 
who  was  attracted  by  its  very  profundity.  The  central 
figure  of  the  Hystorie  of  Hamhlet  is  a  Scandinavian  boy 
prince,  in  a  hostile  court,  bent  on  revenge  for  the  mur- 
der of  his  father,  feigning  madness  for  his  own  safety, 
and  in  the  end  accomplishing  his  object  and  recovering 
the  crown  of  Denmark  for  himself.  It  is  simply  a  story 
of  successful  revenge.  But  this  youth  is  possessed  by 
the  Teutonic  race-horror  of  the  crime  of  adultery,  and 
rebukes  his  mother  in  an  interview  strictly  parallel  to 
that  in  which  Hamlet  so  bitterly  upbraids  Queen  Ger- 
trude. In  the  German  play  this  boy  appears  as  a  young 
prince,  and  is  informed  of  the  murder  and  his  mother's 
guilt  by  his  father's  ghost.  The  originals  of  all  Shake- 
speare's character-group  surround  him,  —  pale  ghosts 
of  Polonius,  Horatio,  Osric,  and  the  rest.    His  mind  is 

^  It  might  be  suggested  as  a  motive  for  secrecy  on  Hamlet's 
part  that  he  feared  that  if  anything  came  out  it  would  reflect  on 
his  mother.  The  ghost  shows  a  chivalrous  desire  to  shield  the 
woman,  and  enjoins  his  son  not  to  '  contrive  against  his  mother 
aught.'  Judging  from  the  fourth  scene  of  the  third  act,  Hamlet 
for  two  months  believed  that  his  mother  was  privy  to  the  murder. 
Hence  possibly  his  nervous  dread  of  publicity. 


358        SHAKESPEARE   AND  HIS  CRITICS 

full  of  desire  for  revenge,  and  he  alludes  to  his  mother's 
shame  as  a  secondary  matter.  The  natural  conclusion  is 
that  Kyd  made  the  boy  a  young  man  and  regarded  the 
plot  simply  as  a  story  of  revenge.  In  Shakespeare's 
mind  the  figure  of  a  young  prince,  compounded  of  in- 
tellect and  emotion,  the  flower  of  Elizabethan  society, 
having  in  his  heart  the  ineradicable  race-instinct  for 
female  purity,  coming  suddenly  into  contact  with  the 
wickedness,  stupidity,  and  selfishness  of  the  conven- 
tional world,  and  absolutely  solitary  till  he  finds  one 
friend,  was  slowly  developed.  He  portrayed  such  a 
man,  and  the  conception  has  made  a  great  impression 
on  other  people  ever  since.  He  did  not  build  on  the  old 
foundations,  though  he  used  much  of  the  old  material. 
The  revenge  motive  is  obscured  in  the  artist's  mind  by 
the  terrible  situation  of  the  young  man  after  the  disclos- 
ure of  the  ghost,  —  a  situation  almost  as  awful  as  that 
of  CEdipus,  —  and  is  thrust  to  the  background,  whence 
it  emerges  from  time  to  time  when  Hamlet  pulls  him- 
self together,  but  it  never  remains  long  enough  to  be 
operative.  The  terrible  mystery  of  human  wickedness 
and  guilt  in  one  from  whom  he  drew  his  life  prostrated 
the  young  man's  soul  with  the  sharp  anguish  of  pity 
and  shame  known  only  to  the  heroic.  He  is  too  well  bal- 
anced to  be  driven  crazy  and  kill  both  mother  and  uncle, 
but  is  in  a  position  that  would  render  any  one  else  in- 
sane. When  the  ghost  tells  him  to  '  revenge  his  foul 
and  most  unnatural  murder,'  Hamlet  replies :  — 

Haste  me  to  know 't  —  [that  is,  tell  me  who  it  was]  that  I, 

with  wings  as  swift 
As  meditation  or  the  thoughts  of  love, 
May  sweep  to  my  revenge. 

The  ghost  then  informs  him  that  his  uncle  was  the 
criminal, and,  had  he  stopped  there,  Claudius  would  have 


CRITICISM   OF  TWENTIETH   CENTURY    359 

been  dead  before  daybreak ;  but  he  goes  on  to  explain 
the  manner  of  his  taking  off,  and  also  —  what  seems 
strange  in  a  father  —  to  tell  his  son  that  his  mother 
was  an  adulteress.  He  enjoins  his  son  not  to  punish  the 
woman,  and  bids  him  '  remember  me.'  Hamlet,  on  the 
departure  of  the  ghost,  bursts  out  in  the  magnificent 
invocation  to  earth  and  heaven  and  hell.  Conscious 
that  this  experience  must  determine  his  life,  he  vows 
that  *  thy  commandment  all  alone  shall  live  within  the 
book  and  volume  of  my  brain.'  Then,  coming  back  to 
actualities,  he  cries  with  an  exceeding  bitter  cry,  first :  — 

O  most  pernicious  woman  ! 
and  then  — 

O  villain,  villain,  smiling,  damned  villain! 

Standing  there  with  the  ruins  of  the  moral  world 
about  his  feet,  what  is  duty,  what  is  revenge?  That 
which  sustains  both,  relation  to  the  outer  world,  to  other 
people,  has  disappeared ;  for  the  moment  he  is  on  one 
side  and  the  rest  of  the  world  on  the  other,  there  is  no 
reciprocity  between  him  and  living  men. 

The  conception  of  a  man  paralyzed  by  elemental 
shame  is  of  course  Shakespeare's,  and  it  would  seem  that 
he  must  have  got  the  hint  from  Belleforest,  not  from 
Kyd,  and  strengthened  the  paralyzing  force  by  letting 
the  son  think  his  mother  privy  to  the  murder.  The  source 
is  of  little  consequence,  for  the  development  goes  far 
beyond  the  germ.  All  of  Shakespeare's  heroes  possess 
a  strong,  normal  subconscious  life  —  they  belong  to  the 
human  family.  When  emotion  wells  up  from  the  depths 
it  does  not  always  result  in  rational  thinking.  Grief 
sometimes  intermittently  and  temporarily  paralyzes  the 
thinking  apparatus,  and  relief  is  found  in  spasmodic, 
irregular,  and  irrational  action.    Hamlet's  emotional 


360        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

disturbance  is  far  more  profound  and  lasting  than  any 
grief  can  create.  The  form  in  which  it  manifests  itself 
is  peculiar  to  him  as  an  individual,  its  intensity  is  de- 
termined by  the  fact  that  he  is  a  typical  human  being. 
The  primitive  instincts  on  which  the  evolution  of  society 
rests  have  not  been  obliterated  in  him  by  cynicism  or 
experience  in  a  conservative,  commercial  world ;  though 
a  prince,  he  is  still  a  man. 

Professor  Lewis  points  out  in  his  first  chapter  the 
futility  of  the  '  Coleridgean  theory '  that  Hamlet  was  a 
'  man  of  wide  and  keen  intellectual  powers,  but  feeble 
will.'  This  theory  hardly  needs  refuting  nowadays,  any 
more  than  does  the  theory  that  Hamlet  was  insane.  '  The 
general  gender  bear  him  great  love,'  and  the  general 
gender  are  never  interested  in  a  dead  man  or  an  insane 
man.  So  they  soon  forget  the  tragic  heroes  of  other 
dramatists,  who  are  usually  insane  or  dead,  or  in  some 
intermediate  state,  and  accept  Hamlet  as  a  brother  of 
the  human  race.^ 

1  It  is  impossible  for  a  writer  of  fiction  to  avoid  discrepancies 
in  relating  parallel  series  of  events.  Shakespeare  is  as  accurate 
as  any  novelist  can  be  in  taking  account  of  the  lapse  of  time,  but 
he  sometimes  fails.  The  play  of  Hamlet  occupies,  from  the  death 
of  the  father  to  that  of  the  son,  four  months  plus  the  time  from 
the  presentation  of  the  '  Mouse-Trap '  to  the  final  catastrophe,  for 
Ophelia  says  at  the  play, '  It  is  twice  two  months '  since  your  father 
died.  She  must  be  taken  au  pied  de  la  lettre,  for  she  is  precisely  one 
of  those  limited  intellects  who  are  exact  in  the  matter  of  dates. 
The  interview  with  the  Queen-mother  and  the  death  of  Polo- 
nius  take  place  immediately  after.  The  arrest  and  deportation 
of  Hamlet  follow  hard  upon,  —  say  next  day.  The  pirates  attacked 
the  ship  *  ere  we  were  two  days  old  at  sea.'  An  indefinite  time 
must  be  allowed  for  the  return  of  Hamlet,  because  when  he  arrived 
Laertes  was  already  in  Elsinore,  having  been  recalled  from  Paris, 
or  overtaken  on  his  way,  by  the  news  of  the  death  of  his  father. 
The  fencing  match  is  at  once  arranged,  for,  as  soon  as  Hamlet 
had  met  Horatio,  passed  by  the  churchyard,  and  entered  the 
castle.   It  takes  place  in  the  hall.   Immediately  on  the  fatal  end- 


CRITICISM  OF  TWENTIETH   CENTURY    361 


PKOFESSOR    RALEIGH 

The  latest  work  in  Shakespearean  criticism  (1907) 
is  Professor  Walter  Raleigh's  Shakespeare^  one  of  the 

ing  Fortinbras  appears,  having  been  successful  in  his  Polack  wars, 
and  the  ambassadors  from  England  enter.  In  the  interim,  there- 
fore, a  ship  had  finished  the  voyage  to  England  and  returned  to 
Denmark,  and  Fortinbras  had  completed  a  campaign.  But  if  we 
allow  a  considerable  time  for  Hamlet's  absence,  —  the  pirates 
may  have  set  him  ashore  at  some  distance  from  Elsinore,  a  port 
they  would  naturally  shun,  or  he  may  have  remained  in  hiding,  — 
the  interval  may  have  been  long  enough  to  allow  for  the  return 
of  the  ship  from  England.  The  time  after  the  representation  of  the 

*  Mouse-Trap '  is,  therefore,  indefinite,  but  not  so  long  that  Ophe- 
lia's flowers  could  not  be  still  in  bloom.  The  four  months  before 
that  present  one  discrepancy.  Hamlet  says  at  the  opening  of  the 
play  that  his  father  was  not  two  months  dead,  and  that  the  wed- 
ding followed  the  funeral  within  a  month.  If  we  call  the  interval 
between  the  murder  and  the  official  announcement  of  the  marriage 
with  which  the  second  scene  opens,  six  weeks,  the  body  lay  in 
state  three  weeks,  giving  time  for  Laertes  and  Horatio  to  be 
recalled  to  the  official  funeral.  The  only  objection  to  this  is  that 
Horatio  would  probably  have  seen  Hamlet  in  the  three  weeks 
between  the  funeral  and  the  wedding.  Hamlet,  therefore,  moped 
in  the  palace  for  two  months  and  a  half  before  he  got  up  the 

*  Mouse-Trap.'  This  makes  up  Ophelia's  '  twice  two '  months  since 
his  father  died. 

For  the  time  of  year  we  must  work  the  other  way,  beginning 
with  the  murder.  Snakes  do  not  emerge  from  their  hibernation 
much  before  the  first  of  April,  and  Claudius  was  altogether  too 
acute  a  man  to  start  the  rumor  that  the  King  was  stung  by  a  ser- 
pent at  a  period  when  every  peasant  would  know  that  snakes  are 
as  harmless  as  walking-sticks.  Nor  would  even  a  hardy  warrior 
King  be  likely  to  sleep  in  the  afternoon  in  an  open  pavilion 
accessible  to  snakes  much  before  May-day,  say  April  15.  This 
would  bring  the  ghost  scene  about  June  15,  a  date  which  har- 
monizes all  the  conditions  but  one.  The  night  is  evidently  short, 
for  the  ghost  leaves  at  one  o'clock,  and  Horatio  notices  that  the 
sun  is  about  to  rise  after  he  and  the  guardsmen  have  discussed 
the  situation.  The  sun  rises  at  half-past  three  on  June  15  in 
southern  England  and  at  twenty  minutes  past  two  in  Elsinore. 


362        SHAKESPEARE  AND   HIS   CRITICS 

series  of  English  Men  of  Letters^  which  have  so  amply 
illustrated  the  wealth  of  contemporary  England  in  men 

June  15  is  a  little  early  for  glowworms,  but  the  discrepancy  is 
slight.  But  next  night  at  twelve  Hamlet  says,  'The  air  bites 
shrewdly,  it  is  very  cold.'  Horatio  replies,  'It  is  a  nipping  and 
an  eager  air.'  That  would  not  apply  at  all  to  the  damp  chill  of  a 
summer  midnight,  even  supposing  that  the  young  men  were  cold 
with  apprehension.  It  means  frost,  or  at  least  a  temperature  in 
which  glowworms  would  have  permanently  'paled  'their  'inef- 
fectual fires.'  Again,  the  night  before  Horatio  speaks  of  the  dew. 
He  may  mean  dampness,  but  even  so,  it  is  incompatible  with  a 
*  nipping  air.' 

If  the  murder  is  dated  April  15,  the  *  Mouse-Trap 'was  pre- 
sented August  15.  Ophelia's  death  would  then  occur  early  in  Sep- 
tember, and  the  flowers  she  presents,  though  some  are  out  of 
season,  may  reasonably  be  accepted  as  possible.  But  there  is  very 
little  time  allowed  for  the  ship  to  return  from  England  or  the 
energetic  Fortiubras  to  finish  his  war.  Three  weeks  at  least  is 
necessary. 

Slight  discrepancies  can  be  found  in  Thackeray,  Fielding,  Trol- 
lope,  and  others.  The  events  in  Hamlet  hang  together  remarkably. 
Shakespeare's  time-scheme  is  much  more  out  of  order  in  Othello, 
but  we  do  not  notice  it  in  reading  because  the  total  impression 
is  of  things  happening  in  sequence.  Irregularities  in  the  time- 
scheme  are  of  course  much  less  important  than  those  pointed  out 
by  Professor  Lewis,  and  very  likely  arose  from  the  same  cause. 
It  is  impossible  to  make  the  details  in  fiction  fit  together  as  they 
do  in  real  life.  In  real  life  Fortinbras  would  not  have  disem- 
barked his  '  lawless  resolutes '  on  an  island  and  marched  across 
merely  to  take  ship  on  the  other  side.  Apparently,  Shakespeare 
did  not  know  that  Elsinore  was  on  an  island.  Again,  a  June  night 
at  Elsinore  is  all  twilight,  and  no  star  could  be  said  to  '  illume 
that  part  of  heaven  where  now  it  hurns.^  Arcturus  himself,  if 
visible,  would  be  but  the  faintest  twinkle. 

Another  point  which  may  be  regarded  as  a  legacy  from  the 
Kyd  play  is  the  anomalous  position  of  Hamlet  at  the  Danish  cap- 
ital. He  has  his  own  suite  in  the  palace,  though  he  is 'most  dreadfully 
attended.'  He  is  the  heir-apparent  in  a  civilized  court,  but  he  is  an 
heir-apparent  without  a  party,  a  state  of  afPairs  unknown  in  English 
history.  He  is  a  cultured  and  attractive  young  man  of  thirty 
with  no  personal  friends  but  one,  whom  he  attaches  to  himself 


CRITICISM   OF  TWENTIETH   CENTURY    363 

of  culture  and  scholarship.  Two  hundred  and  thirty- 
seven  pages  is  scanty  room  in  which  to  display  the 

after  the  play  begins,  —  a  state  of  affairs  impossible  at  any  court, 
where  there  would  certainly  be  some  men  like  Kent,  Edgar,  Mac- 
duff, and  Lennox.  The  court  in  the  Belleforest  story  is  mediaeval 
and  the  prince  is  a  helpless  boy,  so  his  isolation  is  less  unnatural. 
We  might  say,  then,  that  Hamlet's  position  is  a  survival  from  the 
old  play,  but  a  more  reasonable  point  of  view  is  taken  when  we  say 
that  the  play  is  a  poem,  no  matter  what  scrap  of  the  older  story 
clings  to  it.  Thus  the  Danish  court  is  not  a  real  court  made  up  of 
average  human  beings,  but  a  poetic  presentation  of  'this  present 
evil  world ' —  that  is,  the  evil  part  of  it.  It  is  a  court  made  up 
exclusively  of  selfish,  indifferent,  stupid,  and  unsympathetic  people, 
and  Hamlet  is  the  good  man,  solitary  and  bewildered,  coming  to 
comprehend  his  moral  isolation,  an  isolation  impossible  in  real  life 
but  made  complete  in  the  play  for  the  sake  of  poetic  emphasis. 
The  cases  of  partial  isolation  we  sometimes  see  in  real  life  are 
hardly  less  pathetic,  but  for  dramatic  effect  Hamlet's  moral  soli- 
tude must  be  complete,  with  the  relief  of  only  one  sound-hearted 
but  limited  friend. 

The  position  that  Hamlet's  conduct  is  partly  due  to  shock  at 
the  second  part  of  the  ghost's  disclosure  does  not  lessen  the  diffi- 
culty of  comprehending  his  unique  and  high-strung  character.  The 
play  turns  on  a  psychological  problem :  how  will  a  shocking  and 
shameful  disclosure  respecting  a  loved  mother  affect  a  man  of 
highly  moral  nature  and  refined  temperament  already  in  a  condi- 
tion of  melancholy?  Shakespeare  says  that  it  paralyzed  him  for 
two  months,  during  which  he  refrained  from  'all  custom  of  exer- 
cises '  and  remained  in  stupefied  inaction.  At  the  end  of  the  period 
he  endeavors  to  see  the  girl  he  had  loved  (not  very  profoundly,  it 
is  true).  When  he  looks  at  her  he  sees,  once  for  all,  the  hopeless- 
ness of  any  sympathy.  He  has  recovered  tone  partially,  and  wel- 
comes his  college  friends  warmly  and  frankly,  though  he  is  still 
in  a  highly  nervous  and  irritable  state,  to  which  irony  gives  some 
relief.  He  is  rather  unreasonably  hurt  when  he  discovers  that  it 
is  not  a  ♦  free  visitation,'  but  that  the  young  men  have  been  '  sent 
for.'  He  describes  his  condition  in  beautiful  and  touching  words, 
but,  strangely  enough,  he  is  not  irritated  when  they,  utterly  unable 
to  comprehend  him,  respond  with  vacuous  grins,  but  takes  up  the 
news  of  the  advent  of  the  players  with  eagerness,  almost  enthu- 
siasm. These  young  men  have  been  terribly  abused  by  critics,  but 


364        SHAKESPEARE  AND   HIS   CRITICS 

views  of  so  capable  a  critic  as  the  author,  and  in  con- 
sequence the  book  has  in  places  the  effect  of  too  great 

they  are  simply  ordinary,  harmless  persons, —  finely  developed 
specimens  of  the  genus  bore.  Their  contrast  to  Hamlet  is  so 
great  that  as  we  love  him  we  instinctively  hate  them,  which  is 
hardly  fair  to  the  great  body  of  the  human  race.  Then  Hamlet 
takes  up  the  idea  of  the  '  Mouse-Trap,'  not  without  justification, 
for  he  may  reasonably  have  felt  that  there  was  a  bare  possibility 
that  he  was  mistaken.  If  we  talk  about  Hamlet  as  a  real  man  we 
cannot  regard  the  ghost  as  a  veritable  ghost,  but  only  as  a  poetical 
and  highly  effective  theatrical  device  for  presenting  the  effect  of 
suspicion  ripening  into  conviction  but  calling  for  proof.  Ham- 
let's nervous  tension  is  very  marked  when  his  device  is  successful. 
This  is,  however,  no  more  evidence  of  insanity  than  stumbling 
after  violent  exercise  is  evidence  of  drunkenness.  His  reluctance 
to  kill  his  uncle  in  sanctuary  is  natural  enough  for  a  seventeenth- 
century  man.  His  spasmodic  murder  of  Polonius  is  very  unfor- 
tunate, for  from  that  time  till  he  returns  to  Elsinore  Hamlet  is 
under  arrest.  His  return  to  the  castle  is  an  act  of  tlie  highest 
courage.  His  conduct  at  Ophelia's  grave  is  due  to  a  nervous  break- 
down, perilously  near  insanity.  His  willingness  to  play  the  *  friendly 
wager '  is  the  supremest  folly,  for  he  had  the  King's  commission 
in  his  pocket,  and  could  easily  have  raised  a  party  against  him. 
But  impulsive,  high-strung  men  do  act  and  talk  impulsively. 

Hamlet  was,  of  course,  never  the  man  to  form  a  practical  plan, 
looking  to  all  details  and  thinking  of  nothing  else  till  it  was  exe- 
cuted. He  is  far  too  much  given  to  abstracting  particulars  and  con- 
sidering how  they  fit  into  the  general  plan  of  the  universe, —  he 
is  far  too  much  of  a  poet.  But  he  is  a  man  of  so  much  general 
intelligence  and  so  entirely  destitute  of  physical  fear  that,  had  the 
sacred  duty  of  revenge  been  laid  on  him  when  he  was  in  normal 
psychical  condition,  it  is  impossible  to  believe  he  would  not  have 
carried  it  out.  What  prevented  him  except  his  mental  anguish  ? 
What  caused  that  stunned,  inert  mental  condition  for  two  months, 
followed  by  spasms  of  semi-hysterical  raving  alternating  with 
moody  inaction,  except  the  double  conviction  of  his  father's  mur- 
der and  his  mother's  shame  ?  And  the  last  was  by  far  the  more 
potent.  In  the  tragedy  of  Hamlet  effect  follo\7S  cause,  but  the 
effects  are  complicated  and  remote  phenomena  of  human  na- 
ture, and  the  cause  is  the  distressing  nature  of  the  conditions 
confronting  a  unique  character  —  unique  in  degree,  not  in  kind. 


CRITICISM  OF  TWENTIETH   CENTURY     365 

condensation  and  of  a  construction  limited  by  necessity 
and  unjust  to  the  author's  mastery  of  his  theme.  The 
style  is  brilliant,  without  any  appearance  of  conscious 
effort.  The  numerous  quotations  worked  into  the  page, 
many  of  them  without  quotation  marks,  testify  to  the 
writer's  familiarity  with  the  text,  and  witness  to  the 
fact  that  a  line  apposite  to  the  expression  of  every 
shade  of  thought  can  be  found  somewhere  in  the  plays. 
The  first  chapter  is  entitled  '  Shakespeare,'  and  has 
to  do  primarily  with  his  character  as  artist.  Of  Shake- 
speare the  man  we  have  little  but  negative  knowledge, 
indeed,  we  know  nothing  of  him  as  a  living  and  com- 

In  all  the  tragedies  the  experiences  are  subtly  fitted  to  the 
character  that  undergoes  them,  so  much  so  that  were  the  charac- 
ters interchanged  there  would  be  no  tragedy.  In  Hamlet^  not  only 
is  the  central  character  a  very  complicated  and  elusive  one,  but 
the  experiences  cannot  be  related  to  anything  that  we  or  any  of 
our  friends  have  undergone  or  that  we  have  read  of  in  another 
book.  Hence  the  great  difficulty  in  analyzing  his  motives  is  lack 
of  any  sufficient  analogies  in  experience,  though  we  are  conscious 
of  the  fundamental  truth  of  the  tragic  action. 

Flowers  distributed  by  Ophelia 

Rosemary  blossoms  in  July  and  August. 

Pansies  "        "  May,  but  later  when  cultivated. 

Fennel  "        "  July  and  early  August. 

Columbine        "        "  June. 

Rue  "        "  June  to  September. 

Daisies  (some  varieties)  blossom  all  the  season. 

Flowers  in  her  garlands 

Cornflowers  blossom  in  May  and  June. 
Nettles  (some  varieties)  blossom  all  the  summer. 
Daisies        "  '*  "  "  " 

Long  Purples  blossom  in  May  and  June. 

Some  of  the  above  might  have  been  dried  herbs,  but  their 
average  time  of  flowering  is  near  enough  to  August  or  early  Sep- 
tember for  a  dramatist,  though  not  for  a  botanist. 


366         SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

panionable  spirit.  Of  Shakespeare  the  artist,  criticism 
has  revealed  a  great  deal.  We  know  the  man  was  suc- 
cessful in  affairs.  From  this  we  can  gather  that  he  was 
destitute  of  the  improvident,  impatient,  and  self-indul- 
gent temper  which  we  know  prevents  thrift.  He  cer- 
tainly was  destitute  of  the  qualities  which  make  enemies, 
for,  had  he  been  arrogant,  opinionated,  and  selfish, 
some  record  of  quarrels  resulting  from  such  qualities 
would  surely  have  survived.  We  are  sure  that  he  was 
not  positively  bad,  but  we  are  not  sure  that  he  was 
positively  good.  Now  a  man  may  be  a  great  poet  and 
yet  be  a  person  of  little  positive  force  either  for  good 
or  evil,  and  he  may  be  a  fine  artist  and  yet  at  the  bot- 
tom not  at  all  an  estimable  person.  Professor  Raleigh 
thinks :  — 

No  dramatist  can  create  live  characters  save  by  bequeath- 
ing the  best  of  himself  to  the  children  of  his  art,  scattering 
among  them  a  largess  of  his  own  qualities :  giving,  it  may 
be,  to  one,  his  wit ;  to  another,  his  philosophic  doubt ;  to 
another,  his  love  of  action  ;  to  another,  the  simplicity  and 
constancy  that  he  finds  deep  in  his  own  nature. 

With  this  no  one  can  find  fault,  but  it  applies  to 
Shakespeare  the  craftsman  and  artist,  and  not  to 
Shakespeare  the  man.  Professor  Raleigh  may  make 
the  distinction  in  his  mind,  but  he  does  not  make  it 
clear.  Is  it  not  time  that  we  acknowledge  once  for 
all  that,  while  we  may  learn  a  great  deal  as  to  how 
the  writer  of  the  plays  reacted  imaginatively  on  what 
he  learned  from  observation  or  from  books,  we  know 
and  can  learn  nothing  positively  about  the  way  in 
which  he  reacted  habitually  on  the  everyday  world  in 
his  daily  speech  and  conduct?  He  may  have  been  reti- 
cent or  effusive,  selfish  or  generous,  dictatorial  or 
yielding,  possessed,  indeed,  of  any  qualities  except  those 


CRITICISM  OF  TWENTIETH  CENTURY    367 

which  render  fruitless  great  mental  powers.  He  was 
industrious  and  self -controlled  within  the  limits  neces- 
sary to  worldly  success.  Can  we  go  much  further  ?  At 
all  events,  when  Professor  Raleigh  goes  on  to  build  up 
a  personality  for  Shakespeare's  father  he  is  careful  to 
say,  'The  bare  facts,  so  far  as  they  lend  themselves 
to  portraiture,  seem  to  sujoply  svggestions  for  the  pic- 
ture of  an  energetic,  pragmatic,  sanguine,  frothy  man, 
who  was  always  restlessly  scheming  and  could  not 
make  good  his  gains.  We  guess  him  to  have  been  of 
a  mercurial  temperament,  and  are  not  surprised  to 
find  that  he  was  a  lover  of  dramatic  shows.'  This  con- 
jecture gives  life  and  animation  to  the  page,  and  is 
frankly  stated  as  conjecture.  The  further  conjecture, 
that  the  poet's  aristocratic  descent  on  his  mother's  side 
may  have  been  not  without  effect  in  making  him  ap- 
preciative of  the  character  and  bearing  of  high-born 
ladies,  has  at  least  a  plausible  basis.  Nothing  affects 
the  character  of  an  imaginative  child  more  than  the 
tradition  of  well-born  ancestors.  The  author,  in  the 
next  chapter  of  his  delightful  book,  shows  himself 
well  aware  of  the  danger  of  assuming  a  theory  and 
then  interpreting  the  facts  in  its  support.  His  theory 
is :  — 

A  new  type  of  character  meets  us  in  these  plays  {The  Terrv- 
pest  and  Winter's  Tale)  ;  a  girl  innocent,  frank,  dutiful,  and 
wise,  cherished  and  watched ,  over  by  her  devoted  father,  or 
restored  to  him  after  long  separation.  It  is  impossible  to 
escape  the  thought  that  we  are  indebted  to  Judith  Shake- 
speare for  something  of  the  beauty  and  simplicity  which 
appear  in  Miranda  and  Perdita,  and  in  the  earlier  sketch  of 
Marina. 

A  touching  and  interesting  and  suggestive  picture 
that  brings  Shakespeare  close  to  our  sympathy,  but  the 
author  hastens  to  add :  — 


368        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS   CRITICS 

These  speculations  may  easily  be  carried  too  far ;  and  they 
bring  with  them  this  danger,  that  prosaic  minds  take  them  for 
a  key  to  the  plays  and  translate  the  most  exquisite  works  of 
imagination  into  dull  chronicles  and  gossip.  Perhaps  we  do 
best  to  abide  by  the  bare  facts,  and  the  straightforward  tale 
they  tell. 

The  third  chapter,  headed  *  Books  and  Poetry,'  con- 
siders the  books  Shakespeare  might  have  read  and  those 
he  evidently  did  read.  It  recapitulates  the  literature  of 
the  day,  and  makes  a  vivid  —  Professor  Raleigh  always 
succeeds  in  making  his  descriptions  living  —  picture  of 
the  conditions  of  the  time.  He  points  out  how  '  rich ' 
the  plays  are  in  the  '  floating  debris  of  popular  litera- 
ture,—  scraps  and  tags  and  broken  ends  of  a  whole 
world  of  songs  and  ballads  and  romances  and  proverbs. 
Few  of  his  contemporaries  can  match  him  in  the  wealth 
that  he  caught  out  of  the  air  or  picked  up  by  the  road- 
side.' In  considering  the  sonnets  he  inclines  to  the  idea 
that  they  (some  of  them  ?)  '  express  his  own  feelings  in 
his  own  person '  and  '  are  not  merely  poetic  exercises.' 
'The  situations  shadowed  are  unlike  the  conventional 
situations  described  by  the  tribe  of  sonneteers,  as  the 
hard-fought  issues  of  a  law-court  are  unlike  the  formal 
debates  of  the  courts  of  love.'  That  is  to  say,  the  feeling 
is  so  intense  that  it  could  have  been  aroused  only  by 
imagination  working  on  a  real  and  remembered  situa- 
tion. This  is  the  crux  of  the  question,  and  imaginative 
people  —  the  only  ones  entitled  to  judge  —  will  agree 
with  him. 

The  next  chapter  is  on  the  development  of  the  theatre 
and  of  Shakespeare's  plays.  As  it  contains  but  thirty 
pages,  no  systematic  treatment  is  possible,  but  the 
author  touches  lightly  and  always  originally  on  many 
topics.  He  points  out  that  the  scenic  illusion  is  produced 
by  poetic  description.  In  As  You  Like  It,  he  says  'a 


CRITICISM  OF  TWENTIETH   CENTURY    369 

minute  examination  of  the  play  has  given  a  curious 
result.  The  words  "  flower  "  and  "  leaf  "  do  not  occur. 
The  oak  is  the  only  tree.'  Doubtless  the  effect  is  pro- 
duced, first  by  the  words  of  Charles  the  Wrestler :  — 

They  say  he  is  already  in  the  Forest  of  Arden,  and  a  many 
merry  men  with  him  ;  and  there  they  live  like  the  old  Robin 
Hood  of  England :  they  say,  many  young  men  flock  to  him 
every  day,  and  fleet  the  time  carelessly,  as  they  did  in  the 
golden  world. 

This  at  once  rouses  the  boy  in  every  one  of  the  au- 
dience. Who  is  there  that  does  not  long  to  be  with  the 
old  Duke  and  '  fleet  the  time  carelessly '  ?  Then  the 
lyrics  heighten  the  illusion,  and  we  are  perfectly  willing 
to  admit  that  '  under  the  greenwood  tree  '  '  this  life  is 
most  jolly.'  The  effect  is  produced  by  two  or  three 
touches  of  poetry,  as  Professor  Raleigh  says.  But  he  is 
not  quite  exact  in  saying  *  the  oak  is  the  only  tree.' 
Rosalind  finds  some  verses  on  a  '  palm  tree,'  and  if 

*  hawthornes  and  brambles  '  and  a  '  rank  of  osiers '  do 
not  rise  above  the  dignity  of  shrubs,  at  all  events  the 
cote  which  the  cousins  buy  '  right  sodainly '  and  without 
any  fuss  over  conveyancing   or  searches  of   title,  is 

*  fenced  about  with  olive  trees.'  But  this  has  no  bear- 
ing on  the  truth  that  the  sylvan  atmosphere  is  created 
by  a  very  few  poetic  touches,  and  by  the  consistency 
of  the  whole  with  '  losing  and  neglecting  the  creeping 
hours  of  time '  under  the  shade  of  melancholy  boughs, 
where^  — 

'T  is  but  an  hour  ago  since  it  was  nine, 
And  after  one  hour  more  't  will  be  eleven. 

The  next  chapter,  '  Story  and  Character,'  or  Shake- 
speare's materials  and  how  he  handled  them,  is  much 
the  longest,  occupying,  indeed,  more  than  one  third  of 


370        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

the  book.  It,  too,  is  full  of  brilliant  appreciations  ex- 
pressed in  striking  language.  He  takes  a  different  view 
from  most  modern  critics  when  he  says :  — 

At  this  point  of  the  play  (the  opening)  improbability  is  of 
no  account :  the  intelligent  reader  will  accept  the  situation  as 
a  gift,  and  will  become  alert  and  critical  only  when  the  next 
step  is  taken  and  he  is  asked  to  concede  the  truth  of  the  argu- 
ment —  given  these  persons  in  this  situation,  such  and  such 
events  will  follow. 

Before  appealing  to  the  sympathies  and  judgment  of  his 
audience  he  has  to  acquaint  them  with  the  situation.  Until 
the  situation  is  created  he  cannot  get  to  work  on  his  char- 
acters. 

It  is  true  that  in  some  of  the  plays  the  situation  is 
developed  early  ;  in  Lear  in  the  first  and  second  scenes 
and  in  Hamlet  in  the  first  act,  but  in  Othello  and  in 
As  You  Like  It,  for  example,  the  first  act  puts  us  in 
possession  of  the  surroundings  but  not  the  situation. 
In  every  case  the  characters  are  made  interesting  at 
once.  The  '  situation  '  in  the  first  case  is  a  high-spirited 
husband  '  wrought '  and  '  perplexed  in  the  extreme  '  by 
insinuations  against  his  young  wife,  who  has  left  home 
and  kindred  for  him ;  in  the  second  it  is  two  girls,  one 
of  them  masquerading  as  a  boy,  running  away  from 
home,  united  by  a  genuine  friendship,  and  finding  the 
lover  of  one  of  them  in  the  Forest  of  Arden.  In 
neither  is  the  situation  created  till  the  characters  have 
made  a  definite  impression  on  the  audience,  and  not  till 
the  second  act.  Othello  is  never  greater  or  Desdemona 
more  attractive  than  before  they  leave  Venice,  and  the 
varied  charm  of  the  two  cousins  is  displayed  in  the 
court  of  Duke  Frederick  as  irresistibly  as  in  the  cote 
'  at  the  tuft  of  olives.' 

He  is  wide  of  the  mark,  too,  when  he  says  that  '  the 
King  in  Hamlet  is  little  better  than  a  man  of  straw,' 


CRITICISM   OF  TWENTIETH   CENTURY    371 

and  that  '  we  see  him  through  Hamlet's  eyes.'  The 
scoundrel  is  solidly  drawn,  and  any  one  is  to  be  con- 
gratulated who  has  not  had  the  reality  of  this  one  of 
Shakespeare's  portraits  forced  on  him  by  personal  con- 
tact with  some  verbose,  rhetorical  hypocrite,  given  over 
to  sensual  pleasures,  and  entirely  unconscious  of  the 
wickedness  of  his  acts  till  there  is  imminent  danger  of 
exposure.  If  we  '  see  him  through  Hamlet's  eyes '  (and 
Horatio's,  too)  we  see  him  as  he  is,  for  the  disillusioned 
Hamlet  looks  —  perhaps  too  deeply  for  his  own  good  — 
into  reality.  The  world  is  apt  to  accept  fatuously  the 
judgments  of  Polonius  and  Rosencrantz  and  Guilden- 
stern  and  the  Queen  and  Osric,  the  shallow  judgments 
of  the  conventional  majority. 

The  chapter  is,  however,  full  of  epigrammatic  truth. 
It  is  true  that  Shakespeare  is  '  curiously  impatient  of 
dullness  and  that  he  pays  scant  regard  and  does  no 
justice  to  men  of  slow  wit,'  and  in  this  he  differs  from 
Chaucer  or  Goldsmith  or  Addison.  Stupidity  is  made 
absurd,  as  if  he  had  a  rooted  contempt  for  the  non-in- 
tellectual. The  fool  in  Lear  may  be  an  exception,  but 
Horatio,  sometimes  spoken  of  as  non-intellectual,  which 
he  is  in  a  limited  sense,  is  a  man  of  ability.  The  author 
points  out  the  underlying  family  resemblance  in  Shake- 
speare's women,  —  a  resemblance  compatible  with  great 
variety  of  character.  '  They  are  almost  all  practical, 
impatient  of  mere  words,  clear-sighted  as  to  ends  and 
means.'  They  do  not  accept  the  premises  to  deny  the 
conclusion,  or  '  decorate  the  inevitable  with  imaginative 
lendings.'  This  may  be  a  feminine  characteristic,  but 
is  it  not  true  of  Shakespeare's  women,  with  the  possible 
exception  of  Ophelia  and  Gertrude  ?  They  look  reso- 
lutely at  facts  with  entire  absence  of  what  we  are  accus- 
tomed to  call  feminine  perversion  of  logic.  But  they 
are  feminine  enough  in  their  instinctive  perception  of 


372        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  CRITICS 

the  motives  of  others.  There  is  a  part  of  their  minds 
in  which  Beatrice,  Imogen,  Viola,  Cordelia,  and  Rosa- 
lind are  sisters,  and,  horrible  as  it  may  sound,  Lady- 
Macbeth,  Goneril,  and  Regan  are  of  the  same  fam- 
ily. Not  one  is  affected. 

The  last  chapter  is  largely  taken  up  with  a  discussion 
of  Shakespeare's  language  and  style,  which  seems 
rather  out  of  place,  though  we  could  have  wished  it 
longer.  The  book  is  made  up  of  fragmentary  interpre- 
tations of  the  plays  looked  at  under  certain  aspects 
by  a  brilliant  writer.  The  conditions  were  such  that  it 
could  not  be  exhaustive  of  any  one  topic,  but  it  is  be- 
yond question  vivid,  original,  and  interesting. 

CONCLTJSION 

Several  of  the  less  important  criticisms  of  Shake- 
speare have  not  been  mentioned,  though  in  nearly  all 
of  them  can  be  found  valuable  hints  or  brilliant  appre- 
ciations. The  essays  in  the  periodical  press  are  number- 
less, and  to  refer  to  them,  however  briefly,  would  make 
a  book  encyclopaedic  in  character  and  more  than  en- 
cyclopaedic in  volume.  The  general  object  of  this  book 
as  stated  in  the  introduction  was  to  epitomize  the  critics 
who  initiated  or  emphasized  advancing  points  of  view 
and  a  more  philosophic  insight.  Though  it  cannot  be 
said  that  there  has  been  from  the  beginning  a  steady 
progress  towards  an  intelligent  and  adequate  conception 
of  the  plays,  for  the  habits  of  thought  of  one  genera- 
tion may  easily  be  more  conservative  than  those  of 
their  predecessors,  the  advance  from  Ben  Jonson  to 
Professor  Bradley  is  as  marked  as  in  any  other  depart- 
ment of  human  thought  in  the  same  interval,  not  ex- 
cepting natural  science  or  religious  philosophy.  When 
the  plays  were  first  printed  the  qualities  that  most 
attracted  admiration  were  the  story,  the  wit,  the  elo- 


CRITICISM   OF  TWENTIETH  CENTURY    373 

quence,  the  music,  and  the  phrasing,  all  largely  quali- 
ties of  form,  though  of  form  related  to  substance.  Ben 
Jonson's  eulogy,  as  far  as  it  passes  from  generalities 
to  particulars,  dwells  on  the  '  easy  numbers,' '  the  well- 
turned  and  true-filed  lines ' :  — 

The  dressing  of  his  lines, 
Which  were  so  richly  spun  and  woven  so  fit. 

Even  the  writer  of  the  verses  in  the  Second  Folio, 
who  alludes  so  finely  to  the  reality  of  Shakespeare's 
kings,  lays  by  far  the  more  stress  on  the  variety  and 
beauty  of  his  style,  '  the  embroidered  robe  '  woven  by 
the  muses.  The  repetition  of  the  epithet  '  sweet '  or 
some  equivalent  is  monotonous  in  the  seventeenth-cen- 
tury criticism. 

The  spirit  of  the  eighteenth  century  was  so  little  akin 
to  Shakespearean  art  that  the  critics  of  the  age  made 
no  forward  step.  It  was  forced  upon  them  by  the  ver- 
dict of  the  public  that  Shakespeare  was  interesting,  and 
most  of  them  felt  the  superficial  beauties  of  the  plays ; 
but  they  considered  him  '  irregular,'  and  gravely  doubted 
whether  they  ought  to  approve  of  a  poet  who  disre- 
garded '  good  taste '  and  poetic  justice.  It  was  plain 
to  them  that  he  would  have  been  much  improved  by 
a  classical  training,  and  they  lacked  the  enthusiastic 
love  of  artistic  things  which  must  lie  behind  rational 
criticism  of  an  artist.  So  they  confined  themselves  to 
textual  corrections,  and  thought  that  a  tragedy  by  Dry- 
den  was  more  regular  than  one  by  Shakespeare,  in 
which  no  doubt  they  were  correct,  for  regularity  means 
accordance  with  rules  recognized  by  the  critic. 

In  the  early  nineteenth  century,  Coleridge,  drawing 
his  inspiration  from  Germany  and  gifted  with  the  true 
critical  faculty,  took  a  new  standpoint.  He  insisted  on 
Shakespeare's  remarkable  power  of  drawing  characters ; 


374        SHAKESPEARE   AND   HIS   CRITICS 

complex,  interesting,  and  true  to  human  nature.  He 
showed  that  the  poet  was  more  than  a  singer  or  a  story- 
teller ;  he  was  an  interpreter  whose  creations  had  a 
true  correspondence  to  life.  '  True  to  nature '  did  not 
mean  that  the  stage  figure  to  which  it  was  applied 
should  recall  oddities  of  manner  or  diction,  but  that  it 
should  be  actuated  by  the  unique  complex  of  habit  and 
motive  we  call  individuality.  The  play  itself  was  a  unity, 
because  it  was  held  together  by  a  rational  perception 
of  moral  cause  and  effect  and  was  written  under  the 
dominance  of  a  single  poetic  mood,  and  not  because 
the  time  of  the  action  was  consecutive  or  the  place  un- 
changed. The  romantic  age  thus  contributed  to  a  better 
understanding  of  the  poet  of  a  century  earlier.  This 
understanding  has  been  greatly  developed  since,  and 
the  tendency  is  to  analyze  the  great  characters  more 
fully  and  to  find  in  the  action  a  sound  philosophical 
conception  of  life  and  to  see  that  the  great  elemental 
passions  and  affections,  which  are  the  basis  of  all  mo- 
rality, underlieX  it.  We  find  the  plays  correspond 
more  closely  to  our  philosophy  of  life  as  our  philosophy 
comes  to  correspond  more  to  reality.  There  has  been 
no  step  backward,  for  when  once  the  notion  that  the 
poet  was  an  inspired  savage,  a  great  but  irregular 
genius  who  would  have  been  vastly  improved  by  edu- 
cation, was  eradicated,  a  juster  estimate  became  tra- 
ditional. Now,  every  one  can  discern  power  of  which 
Dr.  Johnson  was  entirely  ignorant  and  beauties  to 
which  he  was  blind.  We  see  that  Shakespeare  was  a 
thinker,  because  we  know  the  difference  between  formal 
and  instinctive  thinking.  The  conception  that  Shake- 
speare '  held  the  mirror  up  to  nature '  at  first  covered 
the  idea  that  his  portraits  were  realistic  and  animated, 
and  at  once  typical  and  individualistic.  Now  the  word 
mirror  has  come  to  have  a  wider  significance.  The 


CRITICISM  OF  TWENTIETH   CENTURY    375 

correspondence  is  found  in  the  depth  of  the  reflection. 
Nature  is  not  merely  the  human  nature  of  men  gathered 
in  social  groups,  it  is  the  whole  framework  of  things  in 
which  man  is  rooted.  Lear  and  Macbeth  are  as  natural 
as  Benedick  and  Falstaff,  though  the  background  of  the 
last  two  is  a  social  group,  and  of  the  others  opposing 
forces  whose  conflict  is  in  the  moral  world. 

This  juster  and  fuller  comprehension  of  the  poet 
of  our  race  has  not  resulted  in  blind  worship.  Shake- 
speare's faults  —  well  analyzed  and  summed  up  by 
Professor  Bradley  —  are  frankly  admitted.  Professor 
Bradley  regards  as  inartistic  construction  the  intro- 
duction into  a  tragedy  of  matter  which  does  not  forward 
the  development  of  the  action  nor  accentuate  the  pre- 
sentation of  characters,  as,  for  example,  the  long  speech 
of  the  player  in  Hamlet  and  the  hero's  discourse  on  the 
art  of  acting.  These,  though  interesting  in  themselves, 
could  be  omitted  without  loss  to  the  general  interest.  It 
must  be  remembered,  however,  that  an  effective  stage 
presentation  compels  concentrated  attention,  and  con- 
centrated attention  must  be  relieved  after  a  few  mo- 
ments. This  relief  can  be  obtained  by  consecutive 
scenes,  in  different  moods,  between  different  members 
of  the  character  group,  which  forward  the  action  but, 
by  change  and  contrast,  lessen  the  emotional  tension  in 
the  audience,  which  is  not  one  man  but  a  group  react- 
ing on  itself.  Absolute  relaxation  follows  scenes  which 
do  not  involve  the  relations  of  the  characters  at  all,  so 
that  it  may  be  good  art  to  introduce  such  scenes  in 
a  tragedy.  The  trained  athlete  spars  gracefully  with 
relaxed  muscles  till  the  proper  moment  for  violent 
exertion,  otherwise  his  strength  would  be  prematurely 
exhausted.  So  the  artist  presenting  an  exciting  story 
might  be  wearied  and  his  audience  become  distracted 
if  no  breathing  spells  were  allowed.  The  fourth  and 


376        SHAKESPEARE   AND   HIS   CRITICS 

fifth  acts  of  Othello  sustain  emotion  at  a  height,  and 
for  a  time  that  makes  it  painful,  as  any  one  must  admit 
who  remembers  Salvini  as  Othello.  And  this  is  true, 
though  the  catastrophe  is  relieved  and  adorned  by 
poetic  diction  more  than  in  any  other  tragedy. 

Professor  Bradley  thinks,  too,  that  the  undeniable 
faults  of  construction,  the  impossibility  of  constructing 
a  consistent  time-scheme  in  some  of  the  plays,  the 
occasional  use  of  diction  which,  if  it  does  not  deserve 
the  epithet  '  bombastic,'  is  nevertheless  more  rhetorical 
than  dramatic,  are  the  '  faults  of  a  great  but  negligent 
artist,'  L  e.,  of  one  who  did  not  finish  all  parts  of  his 
work  with  the  conscientious  care  of  Milton  or  Tenny- 
son. The  soliloquies,  too,  are  in  some  cases  too  evidently 
addressed  to  the  audience,  thus  putting  the  player  in 
an  inartistic  relation  to  them  and  taking  him  out  of 
the  character  for  the  moment.  These  points  cannot  be 
controverted,  though  their  force  is  mitigated  by  the  re- 
flection that  the  writer  might  have  been  pressed  to 
finish  a  play  when  not  in  the  mood. 

The  poor  quality  of  Shakespeare's  puns  excited  Dr. 
Johnson's  wrath,  and  arouses  the  contempt  of  the  mod- 
ern reader.  We  become  tired  of  the  repetition  of  lie 
and  lie,  angel  and  angel,  light  and  light,  and  the  rest. 
We  must  remember,  however,  that  the  play  on  words 
had  just  been  invented,  and  puns  passed  current  which 
have  now  been  permanently  retired  from  circulation  as 
containing  too  large  a  percentage  of  cheap  metal.  Had 
Shakespeare  lived  in  the  golden  age  of  the  pun,  it  is  not 
likely  that  he  would  have  rivaled  Thomas  Hood,  but 
his  puns  would  have  been  at  least  as  neat  as  those  of 
Sheridan  or  Theodore  Hook.  His  wit  is  of  another  and 
more  refined  kind,  and  the  point  that  he  was  a  poor 
punster  is  of  infinitesimal  significance. 

We  are  apt  to  judge  the  plays  as  if  they  were  writ- 


CRITICISM   OF  TWENTIETH  CENTURY    377 

ten  for  a  reading  public.  But  they  were  written  for  the 
company  to  present  to  an  audience  of  men.  Among 
them  were  some  university  men  more  or  less  acquainted 
with  the  Latin  classics  or  with  the  modern  Italian 
literature,  and  a  few  writers  and  lawyers  and  courtiers, 
but  these  plays  and  some  songs  and  ballads  were  the 
only  contact  the  greater  part  of  the  audience  had  with 
literary  art.  They  had  a  general  acquaintance  with  the 
names  of  the  gods  of  Roman  mythology,  a  slight  tra- 
ditionary knowledge  of  history  and  of  English  folk- 
lore, and  were  accustomed  to  stage  representations. 
The  readers,  scholars,  and  dilettanti  were  too  few  to 
give  a  critical  tone  to  the  body  of  hearers,  who  stood 
or  sat  in  the  daytime  and  in  the  open  air  instead  of  the 
close,  heated  air  of  the  modern  theatre.  This  audience 
did  not  represent  '  society,'  as  the  Jacobean  audiences 
did  and  as  modern  audiences  do  ;  it  reflected  the  na- 
tional temper,  which  was  vigorous,  elated,  and  mascu- 
line. Englishmen  had  just  conquered  Spain,  they  were 
ready  to  set  sail  on  adventurous  voyages,  determined 
to  find  the  '  Northwest '  or  the  '  Southwest  Passage,'  — 
to  achieve  something  romantically  new.  They  played 
grandly  with  life,  —  they  suffered  from  no  constitutional 
malady.  They  felt  what  Sir  Thomas  Browne  calls  '  the 
contempt  of  death  from  corporeal  animosity,'  much  as 
our  plainsmen  did.  They  did  not  fear  death  less  than 
we,  —  that  is  a  matter  of  individual  temperament,  — 
but  they  were  much  less  shocked  by  scenes  of  fatal  vio- 
lence, by  representations  of  slaughter.  This  audience 
had,  of  course,  its  effect  on  writer  and  players.  Vio- 
lent deaths  are  frequently  represented  on  the  stage,  and 
the  language  is  sometimes  coarse.  The  coward  is  always 
regarded  with  contempt,  but  not  more  than  are  the  car- 
pet knight  and  the  dilettante.  The  characters  must 
be  men  and  the  passions  those  common  to  the  human 


378        SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS   CRITICS 

race.  In  comparison  with  Shakespeare's,  how  pale,  thin, 
unnatural,  and  anaemic  seem  the  heroes  of  Congreve's 
dramas  when  the  stage  had  become  fashionable  and  the 
audience  sophisticated.  Some  of  the  characters  of  the 
drama  of  the  Restoration  are  brave,  gallant,  and  witty, 
but  they  are  not  deeply  rooted  in  human  nature,  be- 
cause the  audience  responded  more  readily  to  the  con- 
scious and  artificial  ideals  of  a  social  group  than  to  the 
more  general  and  unconsciously  held  ideals  of  human- 
ity. For  the  same  reason  Shakespeare's  epigrammatic 
lines  have  a  quality  of  directness  and  force  like  folk 
epigrams  or  proverbs,  and  are  quite  unlike  Bacon's 
apothegms.  The  obscurity  noticeable  in  his  later  work, 
especially  in  Winter* s  Tale  and  Cymheline^  disappears 
when  the  syntax  is  disentangled.  Then,  if  the  sen- 
tences are  read  aloud  and  the  parentheses  and  ellipses 
are  marked  by  the  natural  intonation,  the  meaning 
falls  readily  into  the  mind  of  a  hearer.  They  were  writ- 
ten to  be  delivered  by  a  trained  speaker  to  an  audience 
of  men. 

The  temper  of  the  audience,  then,  accounts  for  what 
might  seem  faults  or  carelessness  in  the  writer  of  the 
plays  and  for  their  virile,  open-air  qualities,  but  not 
in  the  least  for  their  poetry,  nor  their  correspond- 
ence to  a  moral  scheme  of  life.  Some  of  the  audi- 
ence, it  is  true,  may  have  been  dimly  conscious  of  the 
solidity  and  truth  of  the  revelation  they  witnessed 
with  little  thought  beyond  its  amusing  or  exciting 
qualities.  Criticism,  intelligent  examination  and  reflec- 
tion, has  brought  out  hidden  elements  and  put  the 
tragedies  on  a  higher  plane,  possibly  higher  than  their 
author  ever  imagined  they  would  occupy.  There  sure 


those  who  think  that  a  purer,  more  natural  pleasure  is 
derived  from  reading  the  plays,  independently  of  all 
that  has  been  written  on  them,  than  comes  from  read- 


CRITICISM   OF  TWENTIETH  CENTURY    379 

ing  them  with  some  knowledge  of  what  others  have 
written  about  them.  But  such  an  independent  reading 
is  impossible,  for  now  no  one  can  take  them  up  with- 
out a  conscious  and  subconscious  knowledge  of  how; 
they  are  regarded.  It  is  the  spirit  in  which  criticism  is 
assimilated  that  counts,  and  the  more  we  understand 
the  intimate  constitution  of  the  tragedies,  the  higher 
our  estimate  and  the  more  refined  our  pleasure.  We 
may  admire  in  a  general  way  a  range  of  mountains : 
the  verdure  of  the  slopes,  the  shadows  of  the  ravines, 
the  suggested  eternity  of  the  bare  heights.  It  is  true 
that  a  microscopic  study  of  the  rocks  may  not  make 
the  range  appear  more  beautiful,  in  fact,  may  divert 
attention  from  its  magnitude  and  strength ;  but  when 
we  learn  that  it  is  the  mother  range,  an  Archaean  uplift, 
the  result  of  cosmic  forces  working  in  the  depths  of  the 
planet,  we  regard  it  with  a  new  interest  that  ap- 
proaches very  close  to  reverence.  The  heights  are  not 
merely  beautiful,  they  are  from  central  depths.  The 
great  tragedies  are  greater  when  we  find  that  they  are 
grounded  in  the  primal  passions  of  humanity,  that  at 
the  bottom  they  are  simple  and  elemental  and  related 
to  the  constitution  of  things.  Nor  are  their  superficial 
beauties  lessened,  and  even  the  scars  on  the  surface 
come  to  have  their  significance,  when  we  know  that 
the  plays  are  not  merely  Elizabethan  literature,  but  an 
expression  of  humanity.  Criticism,  from  Coleridge  to 
Bradley,  has  established  for  us  the  literal  truth  of  Ben 
Jonson's  line :  — 

He  was  not  of  an  age,  but  for  all  time. 


INDEX 


Adaptation  of  Plays,  72. 

Addison,  70. 

^schylus,  47. 

^Esthetic  Criticism,  19. 

Aldis  and  Wright,  9. 

Amner,  130. 

Anna  Kar&nina,  285. 

Annual  Reg^lster,  132. 

Arcturus,  362  (note). 

Aristotle,  46,  47,  82;  his  rules,  26;  on 
unity,  48-50;  on  Greek  plays,  51, 
52;  on  dignity  of  heroes,  55. 

Art  in  the  eighteenth  century,  151. 

Ashe,  169, 176.  ^ 

Attention  must  be  relieved,  375. 

Audience  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury, 376-377. 

Average  man,  347. 

Bacon,  42. 

Baker,  G.  P.,  342 ;  on  Shakespeare's 
development,  344;  on  the  theatre, 
345. 

Banquo's  ghost,  316. 

Beatrice,  245. 

Beauclerck,  131. 

Beaumont,  17,  170. 

Becket,  137. 

Bells,  The,  317. 

Betterton,  67,  82. 

Biographia  Literaria,  132, 169. 

Biron,  156. 

Boswell,  135. 

Bradley,  A.  C,  321,  316  (note);  on 
construction,  325,  232;  on  the  dra- 
matic conflict,  326;  extracts,  268; 
on  faults  of  S.,  327;  on  Hamlet, 
329-333;  on  Claudius,  334;  on  lago, 
336;  on  Ophelia,  334;  on  Othello, 
335;  on  Lear,  337;  on  Macbeth,  338; 
on  time-scheme  of  Othello,  339. 

Brandeis,  74. 

Browne,  Sir  Thomas,  377. 

Brutus,  264. 

Burbage,  38, 148. 

Buridon's  Ass,  147. 

Burke,  on  Steevens,  13L 

Burney,  Dr.,  126. 

Caliban,  8. 


Cambridge  Edition,  9, 140. 

Canons  of  Criticism,  Edwards,  109- 
112. 

Capell,  Edward,  126;  his  industry, 
128;  style,  128;  publications,  128. 

Carlyle,  267. 

Carlyle's  Essay,  303. 

Cartwright,  38. 

Cato,  Addison's,  70. 

Central  idea,  219. 

Centurie  of  Prayse,  36. 

Cervantes,  263. 

Chance,  322. 

Character  interest,  348. 

Charles  II,  57. 

Chatterton,  137. 

Chettle,  23. 

Cibber,  72,  98. 

Cid,  The,  56. 

Clark,  George,  140. 

Claudius,  81. 

Cleopatra,  298. 

Coleridge,  H.  N.,  176, 181. 

Coleridge,  Mr.  Justice,  176. 

Coleridge,  S.  T.,  vii,  viii,  xi,  18,  36, 
164;  his  father,  166;  conversation, 
168;  parallelisms  with  Schlegel, 
179-184 ;  criticism,  168-183;  lectures, 
170-183;  plagiarism,  180, 183;  avoids 
Schlegel's  mistakes,  184. 

Collaboration,  22. 

Collier,  134,  139,  169;  his  folio,  139. 

Comedy  and  tragedy  united,  175. 

Comedy  vs.  tragedy,  53. 

Congreve,  377. 

Corbin,  comic  scenes  in  ITam^e^,  313. 

Cordelia,  251. 

Corneille,  46,  144. 

Cowper,  166. 

Criticism,  by  contemporaries,  26; 
Phillips,  41;  Dryden,60;  Rymer,  67; 
Dennis,  70;  Gildon,  73;  Rowe,  78; 
Pope,  87;  Theobald,  96;  Haumer, 
104;  Warburton,  105;  Johnson,  113; 
Capell,  128;  Steevens,  129;  Malone, 
133;  f Richardson,  145;  Morgann, 
157;  Coleridge,  168;  Lamb,  188;  Haz- 
litt,190;  foreign,  209;  Schlegel,  214; 
Ulrici,  219;  Gervinus,  223;  French, 
236;  Anatole  France,  238;  Taine, 


382 


INDEX 


240;  White,  252;  Swinburne,  262; 
Dowden,  270;  Tolstoy,  276;  Wen- 
dell, 289;  Fleay,  300;  Carlyle,  303; 
Emerson,  305 ;  Lowell,  307 ;  Miles, 
311;  Corbin,  312;  StoU,  315;  Brad- 
ley, 321;  Lewis,  351;  Raleigh,  361. 
Cruxes,  8. 

Daniel,  42. 

Danish  court,  363  (note). 

Davenant,  72. 

Defoe,  98. 

Delius,  234. 

Dennis,  John,  criticism,  70;  criti- 
cised Pope's  Homer,  71;  rewrote 
Coriolanus,  72;  on  Shakespeare's 
learning,  153. 

Departments  of  Criticism,  1. 

De  Quincey,  40,  168,  269. 

Desdemona,  249,  298. 

Determination  of  dates  of  plays,  13. 

Development  of  Drama,  21. 

Diamond  Necklace,  267,  269. 

Dickens,  37. 

Digges,  verse,  31,  38. 

D' Israeli,  132. 

Divided  authorship,  22. 

Dogberry,  3  (note). 

Donne,  John,  413. 

Double  plot,  51. 

Doubtful  plays,  22. 

Dowden,  16,  20,  270;  on  Ophelia,  273; 
on  Hamlet,  274;  on  Shakespeare's 
democracy,  275. 

Drake,  Nathan,  303. 

Dramatic  construction,  226,  325. 

Dranlatic  literature,  Schlegel,  180, 
181,  182. 

Dramatic  notes,  Lessing,  211. 

Dramatic  vs.  literary  qualities,  188. 

Drayton,  43. 

Dropped  line,  8. 

Drummond,  39. 

Dryden,  John,  imitates  French  dra- 
ma, 58;  plays,  58,  59;  criticism,  60; 
on  the  unities,  63;  on  tragic  ex- 
pression, 63;  on  characterization,  - 
64;  Essay  on  Dramatic  Poesy,  59. 

Dun,  a  fencer,  341  (note). 

Dunciad,  7. 

Dyce,  Alexander,  139,  207. 

Earl  of  Essex,  16. 

Editors  and  Editions  of  plays: 
Globe,  9;  Rowe,  78;  Pope,  81;  Theo- 
bald, 98;  Hanmer,  104;  Oxford,  105; 


!  Warburton,  106;  Johnson,  114 
Reed,  125;  Capell,  128;  Steevens 
130;  Malone,  134;  Boswell,  135; 
Staunton,  139;  Cambridge,  140 
Riverside,  141;  Verplanck,  141 
Furness'  Variorum,  141;  White, 
141;  Knight,  200;  Collier,  205 
Singer,  206;  Dyce,  207. 

Edwards,  on  Warburton's  Emenda- 
tions, 110. 

Eighteenth-century  manners,  94. 

Eikonoklastes,  40. 

Eleven-syllable  lines,  13. 

Elsinore,  time  of  sunrise,  361  (note) ; 
an  island,  362  (note);  stars  not 
visible  in  summer,  362  (note). 

Elsmere,  Robert,  285. 

Emerson,  264. 

Emerson's  Essay,  303,  305. 

Encyclopwdia  Metropolitana,  169. 

End-stopt  verse,  11. 

English  Men  of  Letters,  362. 

English  Traits,  265. 

Episodes,  51. 

Esquirol,  57. 

Essay  on  the  learning  of  Shake- 
speare, 154-156. 

Essays,  372. 

Eulogistic  verses,  26. 

Evidence  of  date,  16. 

Falstafl,  119;  was  he  a  coward?  157. 

Famagusta,  342. 

Farmer,  Dr.  Richard,  154-156. 

Farquhar,  58. 

Fate,  323. 

Fleay,  ix,  x,  14, 190,  256,263,  271,  299, 

300,340. 
Fletcher,  39. 
Folios,  23,  27,  33. 
Foreign  Criticism,  209. 
France,  Anatole,  238. 
Fratricide  punished,  355. 
French  influence,  56. 
Freytag,  G.,  225-231. 
Friend,  The,  169. 
Function  of  Criticism,  378. 
Furness,  Dr.  H.  H.,  x,  9,  20,  99  (note), 

141,  271. 
Fumivall,  ix,  263,  271. 

German  criticism,  165,  258;  transla- 
tions, 212. 
Gervinus,  x,  74,  219,  234,  257. 
Ghosts,  230. 
Ghosts,  315,  319. 


INDEX 


383 


Gildon,  Charles,  73;  on  unity  of 
tiuie,  74;  on  tragi-comedy,  75; 
on  Shakespeare's  learning,  153. 

Globe  Edition,  9. 

Glover,  John,  140. 

Goethe,  172,  213,  217;  on  Hamlet,  218. 

Goetz  von  Berlichingen,  213. 

Goldsmith,  166. 

Grammatical  construction,  6. 

Gray,  166. 

Greek,  regard  for,  25. 

Grey,  153. 

Hall,  Mrs.  Susanna,  84. 

Hallam,  x. 

Halliwell's  Outlines,  25. 

Halliwell-Phillipps,  16. 

Hamilton,  Sir  William,  179. 

Hamlet,  extract,  5;  dropped  line  in, 
8 ;  genesis  of,  31 ;  Lowell  on,  309 ; 
review  of.  Miles,  311 ;  time-scheme, 
340;  fencing  bout,  340-341 ;  without 
Hamlet,  349;  supposed  play  by 
Kyd,  351 ;  Genesis  of,  351 ;  German 
version,  351 ;  survival  of  features 
of  old  play  in,  352;  extract,  355; 
original  element  in,  357 ;  revenge 
motive  in,  358;  time-scheme  in, 
360-3G2  (note) ;  king  in,  370. 

Hamlet,  analysis,  Richardson,  146- 
48;  Coleridge,  173 ;  Anatole  France, 
238;  White,  259;  Swinburne,  260; 
Dowden,  274;  insanity,  309;  Lowell, 
309;  Miles,  311;  Bradley,  329-333; 
his  physical  strength,  341;  his 
complexity,  348;  Lewis,  352;  a 
type,  353;  character  inexplicable, 
354 ;  possible  motive  of,  357 ;  reason 
for  inaction,  327,  359;  not  insane, 
360;  explanation  of  conduct,  363 
(note);  his  college  friends,  363 
(note);  not  executive,  364  (note); 
courage,  364  (note);  nervous  ten- 
sion, 364  (note). 

Hanmer,  Sir  Thomas,  104. 

Hazlitt,  William,  vii,  168,  190;  on 
Fhakespeare's  kings,  192;  on  Por- 
tia, on  Coleridge,  195 ;  on  Scott,  195; 
on  Midsummer  Xight's  Dream, 
197;  on  The  Tempest,  197;  on  Lear, 
198;  his  schoolboy,  201  (note);  on 
Mrs.  Siddons,  202. 

Heminge,  8,  346. 

Henry  V,  324. 

Henry  VIII,  extract,  4. 

Heroes  and  Hero  Worship,  303. 


Herrick,  84. 
Heywood,  17. 
History  of  Drama,  21. 
Histriomastix,  3  (note). 
Holinshed,  20. 
Hood,  376. 
Hook,  376. 
Hooker,  42. 

Horatio's  oversight,  341. 
Hugo,  Franyois,  239. 
Hugo,  Victor,  239. 
Hunter,  Joseph,  206. 
Hurd,  quotation,  212. 
Hystorie  of  Hamblet,  351. 

I.  M.  S.,  verses,  33. 
Iambic  pentameter,  11. 
Ibsen,  230. 
Imitation,  50  (note). 
Imogen,  11,  149,  248. 
Ireland,  137. 
Isabella,  259. 

Jackson,  3,  137. 

James,  verses,  33. 

James,  William,  350. 

Jameson,  Mrs.,  242,  on  Desdemona, 
250;  see  Shakespeare,  women  of. 

Johnson,  Dr.  Samuel,  viii,  1,4,  49; 

-  on  criticism,  113;  on  unity,  120; 
on  narration,  121;  on  change  of 
place,  122;  emendations,  123;  edi- 
tion, 144;  on  Mrs.  Montagu,  144; 
on  Shakespeare's  learning,  154. 

Jonson,  Ben,  verses,  28,  39. 

Juliet,  244. 

Jusserand,  239. 

Kabale  und  Liebe,  226. 
Keats,  44 ;  extract. 
Kemp,  38,  3  (note). 
Kendrick,  125,  135. 
Kid,  17. 
Kingsley,  264, 
Kipling,  37,  52. 

Knight's  Cabinet  Edition,  x,  204. 
Kyd,  351 ;  invented  ghost  in  Hamlet, 
356. 

Laertes,  his  treachery,  340,  341. 
Lamb,  vii,  168,  185;   on  acting,   188; 
on  Lear,  187 ;  on  Mrs.  Siddons,  189. 
Landor,  264. 
hl.atin,  regard  for,  25. 
Lee,  Sidney,  17,  21,  83,  131, 162. 
Lemcke,  234. 


384 


INDEX 


Lesslng,  210. 

Lewis,  351. 

Literary  Criticism,  18. 

Literary  Remains,  169, 176. 

Literary  vs.  dramatic  qualities,  188. 

Lounsbury,  T.,  x,  34,  143,  237,  302. 

Lovers  Labour's  Lost,  extract,  10; 

proportion  of  different  lines,  12; 

stage  direction  in  Collier's  Folio, 

140. 
Lowell,  307,  308,  309. 

Macbeth,  226,  227,  228,  295,  350. 
Macbeth,  68,  161,   179,  201,  220,  227, 

325. 
Macbeth,  Lady,  202,  248. 
Malet,  99. 

Malone,  127, 133;  his  edition,  134. 
Mario,  17. 

Measure  for  Measure,  259. 
Memorials  of  Shakespeare,  303. 
Merchant  of  Venice,  295. 
Meres,  Francis,  24. 
Metrical  tests,  300. 
Miles  on  Hamlet,  311. 
Milton,  John,  32,  40. 
Miranda,  248. 
Mommsen,  235. 
Montagu,  Mrs.,  142,  144. 
Montaigne,  305. 
Moor,  The,  and  the  wicked  Ensign, 

279. 
Morgann,  M.,  on  Falstaff,  156. 
Moulton,  R.  G.,  232. 
Mouse  Trap,  361  (note). 

Nash,  17. 

Nature,  false  idea  of,  180. 

Nerissa,  174. 

Nineteenth-Century  Commentators, 

203. 
North,  20. 
Novalis,  210. 

Object  of  book,  372. 

Ophelia,  171,  246;  Coleridge  on,  171 
Hazlitt  on,  200;  Jameson  on,  246 
Dowden  on,  275 ;  her  garlands,  340 
season  of  her  flowers  365  (note). 

Order  in  which  plays  were  written 
15. 

Origins  of  plots,  20. 

Osric,  287,  341. 

Othello,  250,  335;  not  a  negro,  215 
375. 

Overflow  verse,  11. 


Pageant  scenes,  325. 

Palladis  Tam,ia,  24. 

Peel,  132. 

Pepys,  Samuel,  27. 

Perdita,  248. 

Pericles,  22. 

Plagiarism,  180-183. 

Player's  Quarto,  3,  27. 

Plots,  origin  of.  20. 

Plutarch,  20. 

Poetics,  46. 

Poet-Lore,  132. 

Pope,  Alexander,  49,  86,  127;  criti- 
cism, 87,  93;  emendations,  88-90; 
on  doubtful  plays,  91;  on  scene 
division,  80;  on  Shakespeare's 
learning,  153. 

Portia,  67,  194,  297. 

Preposterous  person,  the,  68  (note). 

Prynne,  3  (note). 

Puns,  376. 

Quartos,  3,  27. 

Queen,  in  Hamlet,  172,  333,  357. 

Quickly,  Dame,  7. 

Rabelais,  263. 

Rachel,  57  (note). 

Racine,  57  (note),  144. 

Raleigh,  Professor  "W.,  361. 

Reed,  Isaac,  130,  137. 

Relief  necessary  after  attention,  375. 

Representative  Men,  303. 

Rhyming  lines,  12. 

Richardson,  criticism,  145-148. 

Ritson,  135. 

Riverside  Edition,  141. 

Robbers,  The,  213. 

Robinson,  H.  C,  180. 

Romances,  324, 

Romantic  drama,  167. 

Romantic  movement,  165. 

Romanticism  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury, 167 ;  of  the  Renaissance,  167. 

Romeo  and  Juliet,  325;  emendations, 
7,  141. 

Rosalind,  260,  343. 

Rowe,  Nicholas,  27,  70,  78,  127;  his 
edition,  58;  divides  acts  and 
scenes,  79;  life  of  Shakespeare,  83; 
emendations,  84;  second  edition, 
86;  his  personality,  86 ;  on  Shake- 
speare's learning,  153. 

Rymer,  Thomas,  63,  65,  68. 

Rules,  45. 

Runaway's  eyes,  7. 


INDEX 


385 


Saintsbury,  183. 

Salvini,  375. 

Saniso7i  Agonistes,  42. 

Scherrer,  239. 

Schiller,  213,  226. 

Schlegel,  Agustus,  x,  44,  172,  179, 
214;  parallelisms  with  Coleridge, 
185;  on  Othello,  215;  on  unity,  216; 
on  dramatic  characters,  217;  on 
"Hamlet,  218. 

Schmitt,  261. 

Scientific  method,  ix. 

Seneca,  56. 

Seymour,  137. 

Shakespeare,  Judith,  367. 

Shakespeare,  William,  acts  and 
scenes  divided,  79;  anachronisms, 
117  (note);  as  artist,  365;  attitude 
to  the  rich,  287;  toward  religion, 
83;  his  audience,  377 ;  .'blamed  for 
want  of  dignity  in  kingsT,  55_j>books 
he  read,  368;  chance  in  tragedies, 
322 ;  characters,  157,  176,  296 ;  com- 
mentators on,  nineteenth-century, 
201-207 ;  conception  of  fate,  309, 322 ; 
of  tragic  action,  322;  considered 
irregular,  vii ;  how  far  a  conscious 
artist,  327;  Freytag,  on  construc- 
tion, 228;  constructive  power,  297; 
construction,  325;  contradictions, 
328;  critics,  see  criticism;  daughter, 
his,  367;  democracy,  275,  285;  de- 
velopment, 344;  disregard  of  me- 
trical rules,  12 ;  of  technical  rules, 
45;  of  unity  of  time,  48;  dream 
scenes,  317;  early  position  in  lit- 
erary world,  43;  editors,  see  Edi- 
tions; father,  his,  367;  faults  of, 
143 ;  female  characters,  see  Women; 
ghosts,  315;  gnomic  passages,  329; 
heroes,  his,  359;  his  introductions, 
Raleigh,  370;  his  language,  292;  in- 
troduction of  irrelevant  matter, 
328-329;  life  of,  in  London,  23, 
Rowe's,  83,  Lee's,  301;  learning,  his, 
152;  Lovers  Labour's  Lost,  might 
have  rewritten,  14;  man,  as,  366; 
maternal  descent,  357;  metre, 
follows  traditionary,  343;  mixing 
comedy  and  tragedy,  55,  75 ;  tragic 
motifs,  199;  moral  tone  of  plays, 
177;  music,  his,  287;  musical  quali- 
ty of  lines,  15;  obscurity,  379; 
oversights  in  Hamlet,  362,  see  note ; 
perception  of  race  emotion,  291; 
plays   adapted,  72,  attractive  on 


stage,  76,  not  to  be  acted,  186,  acted 
in  Germany,  209;  plots,  sources  of, 
20;  poems,  31;  redundancy,  328; 
repetitions,  297;  reputation,  his, 
283,  see  Tolstoy ;  rhymes  in  plays, 
12;  romanticism,  167;  situations, 
his,  370,  see  Raleigh ;  skill,  improv- 
ing, 343;  short  scenes,  327;  solilo- 
quies, 328;  sonnets,  32;  spirits, 
belief  in,  318 ;  stage  of  his  day,  346 ; 
thinker,  a,  374;  translations,  204; 
unity,  attains  true  tone,  51;  unity 
of  The  Tempest,  53 ;  verse  form,  10- 
11 ;  wrote  for  men,  378;  women  in 
plays,  not  appreciated,  67,  149,  164, 
170,  171,  242,  252;  Mrs.  Jameson  on, 
371,  375. 

Shakespearean  Lexicon,  261 ;  Manu- 
al, 300;  Society,  new,  263;  Society, 
German,  234. 

Shaw,  230. 

Shelley,  44,  353. 

Shelling,  179. 

Sheridan,  376. 

Shirley,  39. 

Short  lines,  11. 

Siddons,  Sarah,  170,  189;  as  Lady 
Macbeth,  202 

Signboard  criticism,  19. 

Simpson,  ix. 

Singer,  Joseph,  139,  206. 

Sonnets,  368;  extract  from  preface 
of  edition,  69  (note). 

Stage,  Elizabethan,  345. 

Staunton,  Howard,  139. 

Steevens,  George,  125,  127,  129;  his 
hoaxes,  131 ;  on  the  Sonnets,  133. 

Stoll,  E.,  315. 

Story-interest,  347. 

Style,  affected  by  subject,  14. 

Sunrise  time  in  Southern  England, 
361  (note). 

Swedenborg,  306. 

Swinburne,  A.  C.^  x,  15,  262;  his 
prose  style,  262 ;  on  The  Comedy 
of  Errors,  264;  on  Emerson,  264; 
on  Hamlet,  266;  on  lago,  267;  on 
tragic  poets,  270. 

Sylvia,  234. 

Symonds,  21. 

Table-talk,  169. 

Taine,  H.,  57,  239;  extract,  240. 

Tate,  74,  76;  his  version  of   Lear, 

118. 
Technique  of  Drama,  Freytag,  225. 


386 


INDEX 


Text,  142. 

Textual  criticism,  2. 

Theatre,  Elizabethan,  345. 

Theatriim  Poetarum,  41. 

Theobald,  emendation  in  Quickly's 
speech,  7;  criticism,  95,  97;  his 
memory,  95;  his  emendations,  96- 
100;  attack  on  Pope,  97,  103;  non- 
comprehension  of  lyrics,  100;  on 
learning  of  Shakespeare,  153. 

Tibbalds,  7. 

Tolstoy,  262,  267;  on  Lear,  277;  on 
characterization,  278;  on  exaggera- 
tion of  Shakespeare,  282 ;  on  repu- 
tation of  Shakespeare,  282;  on 
neglect  of  religious  themes  in  dra- 
ma, 284;  on  The  Tempest,  287;  on 
Shakespeare's  lack  of  democratic 
sympathies,  282. 

Tonson,  98. 

Tragic  action,  322. 

Tragic  conflict,  299. 

Translations,  209. 

Turkish  fleet,  219. 

Turner,  a  fencer,  341  (note). 

Twelfth  Night,  6;  Fleay's  idea  of 
composition  of,  14. 

Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona,  224. 

Tivo  Noble  Kinsmen,  22. 

Tyrwhitt,  Thomas,  209. 

y     Ulrici,  219,  235,  337;  his  criticism, 

219,  223. 
Unities,  45,  174,  254;   of  time  and 

place,  48;  of   action,  49;  in   The 

Tempest,  54. 
Upas  tree,  132. 
Upton,  153. 

Valentine,  234. 
Valentlnian,  263. 


Vanbrugh,  58. 

Variorum  Edition,  Furness,  9,  141; 

Malone,  135. 
Verplanck,  G.,  141. 
Verse-form,  10. 
Viola,  16,  246. 

Volpone,  263. 
Voltaire,  143, 144. 

Vortigern,  137. 

Walker,  W.  S.,  207. 

War  and  Peace,  278. 

Warburton,  W.,  104,  127;  quarrel 
with  Hanmer  and  Theobald,  107; 
emendations,  106,  108;  Edwards, 
on,  iii,  109. 

Ward,  21. 

Warner,  42. 

Watson,  7. 

Weak  endings,  13. 

Wendell,  Barrett,  289,  299  ;  on  Lear, 
295;  on  Shy  lock,  295;  on  power  of 
drawing  character,  296  ;  on  repeti- 
tions by  Shakespeare,  297 ;  on  con- 
structive power,  297;  on  Shake- 
speare's women,  298. 

Whalley,  153. 

White,  R.  G.,  140,252;  on  the  unities, 
254 ;  on  metrical  tests,  256 ;  on 
Gervinus,  257;  on  Ulrici,  257;  on 
the  editor's  duty,  257 ;  on  German 
critics,  258;  on  Isabella,  259;  on 
Hamlet's  age,  259;  on  Rosalind, 
260;  on  acting,  260. 

Wilson,  Professor,  339. 

Women  in  Shakespeare,  149;  see 
Shakespeare  ad  fin. 

Woodbridge,  Dr.  E.,  228. 

Wordsworth,  W.,  44, 165. 

Wright,  William  Aldis,  140. 

Wycherley,  58. 


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